A Hiccup
by Kieran02
Summary: They all saw him as nothing but a hiccup. The night he failed to shoot down a Night Fury was just the start of even worse to come for Hiccup Horrendous Haddock. With everything taken away from him, how could he ever hope to prove that he's more than just a hiccup? AU.
1. A Hiccup

**A/N**

 **This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **Also, I'm looking for a Beta to read over my content before I post it and help me work through any issues, I've not written a story in about ten years so I need all the help I can get. If you're interested, please PM me.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. However, if DreamWorks would like to hand Toothless over, I'd be much obliged.**

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Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day was going to be a good one.

He woke up in his comfortable bed and listened to the birds chirping in the trees by his window. It wasn't often one could enjoy such a simple sound on Berk, so Hiccup made sure to savour the moment for as long as he could. He liked to imagine being a bird sometimes, the freedom they have to just fly off anywhere they wish must be amazing. His morning bliss was broken, however, by a loud shout.

"Hiccup! Breakfast."

"Coming, dad."

Hiccup sat up, stretched himself like a cat, whipped his legs around and stood up. He took one step towards his wardrobe, before tripping over the boots he'd left haphazardly by his bed the night before and fell to the floor with a crash.

Downstairs, Stoick the Vast, Chief of Berk, heard the usual sound of his one and only child falling to the ground and let out a long-suffering sigh. He congratulated himself on choosing to use strong oak to rebuild their house after it was destroyed yet again in a raid, if he hadn't he was sure there'd be a Hiccup sized hole in the ceiling.

Upstairs, Hiccup peeled himself off the floor, dusted himself off, and began to dress for the day. Okay, sure, he'd tripped over, but he did that most mornings, and at least this time he didn't land on his nose. Still a pretty good morning, in his book. Fully dressed, he looked down at the familiar green tunic he wore with pride. All Heirs of Berk had worn a green tunic, and Hiccup was happy he could continue that tradition, at least.

Hiccup made his way downstairs and greeted his father. Stoick grunted a greeting to his son, and lazily motioned him towards the table where his breakfast was waiting, before returning to his whittling. Hiccup sat in his usual seat, legs dangling a good few feet off the floor, and inspected the morning's offerings. Burnt porridge. Again. Well, beggars can't be choosers, and Hiccup eagerly tucked into the meal his father had made him. It wasn't often that the Chief of Berk took time out of his busy schedule to make his son breakfast, so Hiccup would have eaten one of the floorboards if his father presented it to him in a dish. In fact, he was pretty sure he had in fact been fed this after a particularly late raid, but nevertheless, nothing was going to spoil his mood today, he was sure of it.

Once he was sure his scrawny son had finished his meal, and gods knew how difficult that particular task was, Stoick set aside his whittling tools and stood, clearing his throat. Hiccup immediately put his spoon into his empty bowl, and ran it to the washbasin, before scuttling back to his seat and looking up at his father with wide eyes.

Stoick nodded his approval. Attentiveness, good. Perhaps his son was finally growing an attention span larger than a sparrow's.

Stoick walked a few large steps toward the downstairs cupboard, and rummaged around until he had found what he was looking for "Aha!". Turning, he hid the item behind his, of course, vast back, and looked upon his heir.

"Well, son, today is the big day. 15! Odin knows I never thought you'd make it this far, especially not after the disaster that was your last birthday".

Hiccup blushed and mumbled something that to Stoick sounded suspiciously like "mild-calibration issue", banned words in their house, before looking back at his father.

Stoick continued "And so, I suppose it is time I placed a bit of trust in you. Despite many of the villager's concerns, warnings and none-too-subtle threats of maiming at best, death at worst, I believe it is about time for your first weapon."

Hiccup gasped in surprise. "Really? But I thought you said that the day you gave me a weapon would be the day you made the journey to Valhalla?"

"Aye…I did say that….but Hiccup, this is important. You are my son, the heir to Berk, and you need to start being more like us. Which means you walk like us, talk like us, act like us. No more of….this."

Hiccup looked down at where his father's meaty hand had pointed. "But you just gestured to all of me."

Stoick nodded once, eyes boring down upon his son.

Hiccup sighed "Okay, so what did you get me? Ooh, is it a war-hammer like yours? Or maybe an axe, like the one Astrid has, she's bound to be impressed if I…"

Stoick interrupted his son's ramble and produced a small dagger, almost completely hidden in his large hand.

"….had a really tiny knife. Come on, dad, surely I can handle something a bit bigger than this?"

Stoick growled out "Like the time you stabbed me in the arm when you tried to pick up my sword?"

Hiccup flared up in indignation "I was six! It was twice as big as me!"

Stoick wearily brought a hand to his forehead "Yes, Hiccup, and at that age I could use any weapon given to me. You, on the other hand, have yet to convince me that you don't need my supervision when using a knife and fork!"

Hiccup looked down at his feet, shame rising through his body. He didn't need to be reminded how, well, _different_ he was to his father. Where Stoick the Vast was the tallest, strongest, toughest Viking Berk had ever seen, Hiccup, well, wasn't. He was a fishbone, or at least that's what everyone called him, and he couldn't wield a weapon to save his life. He knew, he'd tried. So Hiccup focused on his brain, forever building things that would wield the weapons for him and improve Berk's chances in the almost-nightly raids on the village. The only problem was, they never worked. Hiccup was sure he was cursed. He'd create a new invention, like the axe-thrower (Hiccup shuddered involuntarily at the memory), and the initial testing would go fine, great even, but as soon as he excitedly wheeled it out for field use, it all went horribly wrong, and he received the now customary dressing-down from his father in front of the whole village.

But Hiccup was certain that one day, he'd create something that would work, and his father would finally say those words he'd longed to hear his whole life: "I'm proud of you, son". The Bola-Launcher he'd created, hidden away at the forge, was sure to be his ticket to greatness.

Hiccup shook himself out of his musings and looked back up into his father's expectant face "Thanks, dad. This is great. And hey, maybe you can show me how to use it? We could head out-"

Stoick laughed, a booming laugh that shook the very foundations of their home "Show you? Hiccup, you don't _need_ to be _shown_ how to use it. It's a dagger, for Odin's sake! And besides, you are my son, it should be instinctual for you."

Hiccup tried to reason with his father "But, what if-"

"Now, I need to go and deal with the village. It's been a few days since the last raid, and we're due one. It is my job as Chief to ensure that we are prepared. If you're so unsure on how to use your dagger, maybe one of your friends could show you?"

With that, Stoick the Vast walked past his son, favouring him with a fatherly pat on the head, and squeezed his way out of the door.

Hiccup stared after the retreating form of his father "But….I don't have any friends".

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day was a little disappointing.

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Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day still had the potential to be a good one.

Hiccup walked sullenly into the forest, kicking up dirt as he did so. Was it too much to ask that his dad take, say, an hour out of his day for him? But no, even his father didn't want to spend time with "Hiccup the Useless". But, was it even his fault? Sure, okay, he wasn't big and strong like the other Vikings. But neither is Astrid! They're pretty much the same size, even if Astrid could rival Snotlout in strength, but still. She was amazing with her axe, and why was that? Because she was taught how to use it! Her parents showed her the correct stance, grip, application of force, everything she'd need to know, and from there she practised every day with it until she was perfect.

But Hiccup? He was always left alone to struggle, and whenever he'd try to show people they'd laugh and call him useless. So he just stopped trying. Hiccup didn't think himself wrong, anyone would try and stem the harsh words and jeers anyway they could, right? And if trying, and failing, to use a weapon brought him nothing but hate, then he wouldn't try to. But, he owed it to himself, and to his father, to at least try and master the use of this dagger. He'd spend all day out here practicing if he had to.

Unfortunately for Hiccup, his thoughts caused him to not pay attention to where he was going until it was nearly too late. All he heard was a mighty scream, the slight whistling of displaced air, and a thud.

Hiccup, who reared his head back and had closed his eyes so tightly he feared Gobber would need to come and wrench them back open, threw his hands up in surrender. He didn't know who was attacking him, but he just hoped they would have mercy. Footsteps approached from his right, and Hiccup carefully shuffled around until he was facing that direction.

"Hiccup? Is that you?"

Hiccup's eyes opened in a flash, Gobber wouldn't be needed today. There, standing before him, was the most beautiful girl in all of Midgard: Astrid Hofferson. Even now, stalking towards him with a scowl etched on her face, Hiccup felt the usual quickening of his heart and moisture gathering in his palms.

"H-Hi Astrid. Hi. Astrid. Hi Astrid!". Hiccup glanced behind him at the axe that was embedded in a tree trunk, not a foot away from where his head had been not a minute before. Well, only one near-death experience so far, and now Astrid Hofferson was standing before him in all her glorious beauty. This day was looking up for one Hiccup Horrendous Haddock.

"Hiccup, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the forge where Gobber can keep an eye on you?" Astrid came to a stop in front of him, her hands resting on her hips that were cocked to one side. Gods, she was beautiful. And angry. She always seemed to be angry at him these days. It was a far change from when they were children, they were always playing together.

"Uhm, well, the thing is A-Astrid, it's my birthday and, well, my father got me t-this" He held the dagger out towards her, tactfully giving her a chance to wish him a happy birthday and exclaim over how great his present was.

Astrid glanced down, once, at the dagger, before her eyes returned to staring at his.

"So? Rather than, I don't know, _using it,_ you decided to just silently wander the forest where anything could happen to you?"

Hiccup blushed "Wow Astrid, I didn't know you cared so-"

"I don't."

Hiccup swallowed his disappointment down "Oh. Well, that's fine. I was just coming out here to learn how to use it and-"

Astrid scoffed "You're telling me you don't know how to use a dagger? Hiccup, I learned how to throw one of those perfectly when I was ten. How can you not know?" She stared at him, baffled at how the Chief's son could be so pathetic.

Hiccup looked down at his feet and muttered: "It's not like anyone would show me."

Astrid sighed and looked at the boy in front of her. Rail-thin, like a wisp of smoke that could be blown away at any moment, and numerous cuts and bruises on his hands and face from God's knew what calamity. She couldn't believe this boy, _Hiccup the Useless_ , would one day be in charge of the village. He rubbed his arm and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Well, she supposed it _was_ his birthday, the least Astrid could do was cheer him up a bit. His wounded dragon look was annoying her, anyhow.

"Well listen, Hiccup, maybe it's a good thing. At least this way, you won't go charging in on the next raid and get someone hurt again."

Apparently, this did not do the job of cheering him up. Instead, his head dropped to his chest, and he heaved a sigh out. Did he ever stop sighing?

Hiccup looked up at her again, sadness in his eyes "Astrid, I-"

She tried again "Hiccup, listen to me. Fighting and using weapons just aren't your strong points. That's for the real Vikings to do. You're good at…Okay, I don't know what you're good at, but I'm sure there's _something_ you can do that doesn't cause a disaster."

Hiccup looked at his feet again. Okay, _that_ hurt. He was good at some things! Maybe not the things that he should be good at, like fighting, hunting and killing dragons, but still. He thought back to the conversation with his father from that morning. Dad said that he needed to be more like everyone else. And the people of Berk were nothing if not brave, right? He could be brave. He steeled himself, and looked into those striking blue eyes of the girl he, well, was very fond of.

"I used to be good at being your friend, Astrid."

Astrid blinked once in shock. She had not expected him to say that. She felt the usual exasperation build inside her whenever she had to deal with Hiccup, something she usually avoided with her usual perfection.

"Hiccup, that was a long time ago. Before you started messing things up all the time and embarrassing me. How could I become Berk's finest warrior with you holding me back constantly?"

Hiccup reeled, Astrid's harsh words had hit him harder and more painfully than any dragon could ever hope to. "Bu-but you were my best friend, Astrid. My only friend. All I want is for us to spend time together again, like we used to."

Astrid shook her head "Hiccup, we will never be friends again. You're just a, well, a hiccup."

With that, she walked past the shell-shocked boy and wrenched her axe out of the tree. She wiped the sap from the tree off the head, and without looking back at Hiccup, walked away.

Hiccup stood where she had left him for Gods knew how long. He replayed the words she had spoken over and over again in his head "We will never be friends again".

Hiccup shook himself out of his thoughts, and stared down at the forgotten dagger, still dangling from his fingertips. He felt a bubbling pit of anger surging through his body, and with all his might, he threw it at the same tree that Astrid's axe had settled in. The blade spun, coursing through the air with deadly force.

It missed.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day was definitely not a good one.

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Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day was awful.

He'd returned from the woods, after spending at least an hour looking for where his new dagger had landed, and headed to the forge to see Gobber. The old blacksmith always managed to put some sort of smile on his face, and Hiccup felt more at home at the forge, bantering back and forth with his two-limbed friend. The visit was soured somewhat by Gobber having no idea it was Hiccup's birthday "Ah, I'm sorry, lad. I thought it was next week. You leave it to old Gobber, and you'll get a cracker of a present, just you wait." Hiccup left the forge with a slight spring in his step, ideas over what Gobber would get him racing through his mind.

Once evening came, Hiccup made his way up the hill towards the Mead Hall. He was dreading it. Birthday celebrations were always held in the hall, so everyone on Berk could join in the festivities and wish the lucky soul a good day. And every year on Hiccup's birthday was the most painfully unneeded celebration you could imagine. None of the villagers would be there if his father didn't practically bribe them with the best food he could buy. He wondered to himself why his father even bothered, it's not like this year would be any different. In fact, he was sure it would be worse.

Hiccup reached the huge doors of the hall and struggled to push them open. As it turned out, Silent Sven happened to be exiting the hall at the same time, and when he wrenched the door inwards, Hiccup was thrown through the doorway and landed with a slight bounce in the centre of the hall.

All eyes turned towards the Chief's son, with whispers and barely-hidden laughter dogged the boy as he made his way to his father's table, his face red from embarrassment. Stoick the Vast sat at the head of the table, able to see everyone in the hall at all times, as is a Chieftain's wont. Sitting with him was Gobber, who gave Hiccup a cheery hooked wave, Spitelout, his uncle, who gave the still red-faced teen a small smile, and Spitelout's son, Snotlout, who was openly pointing and laughing at the latest misfortune to befall his useless cousin.

As Hiccup sat beside his father, Stoick stood and clapped his hands once to gather everyone's attention.

"Settle down, settle down. Thank you all for joining my son and I-" he clapped Hiccup on the back, nearly sending the boy headfirst into the table "in his birthday celebration. I'm sure you're all dying to wish him well!" At this, the hall turned deathly quiet. One of Mildew's sheep could be heard bleating in the far off distance. Hiccup tried his hardest to extract himself from his father's grasp and slide under the table, where he could die from mortification in peace. Stoick coughed once "But, before all that, maybe it's time to eat!" A great cheer went up from everyone in the hall "Only the finest meats and ales for my only child's birthday".

A rush of footsteps was heard as everyone made their way towards the banquet table, Stoick leading the ravenous pack. Hiccup felt a hand grasp his shoulder, much softer than his father's and filled with affection. He followed the hand to the face of his uncle. Spitelout grinned at his nephew "Happy birthday, son. Why, you haven't changed a bit since you were a toddler! Still the same size at least..." he winked at Hiccup, showing him that his words were meant to be taken lightly. He tapped Snotlout on the shoulder, and made a motion with his hand. Snotlout scowled, and reached down under the table, extracting a large package. He handed it to his cousin, and, being Snotlout, held on slightly when Hiccup tried to take it before letting go and nearly causing the smaller boy to fall off the bench. Spitelout glared at his son, before turning kinder eyes to his nephew "Well go on, open it up son."

Hiccup held up the package, inspecting it. It was shaped like a half-circle and was quite light. He tore off the minimal wrapping paper and looked upon his gift. A bow. He looked up at his uncle in confusion.

"It's a bow, Hiccup." Spitelout grinned at the boy.

Hiccup rolled his eyes "Really? I thought it was a fishing boat. Why have you given me a bow, uncle? N-not that I'm not grateful, but...me? A weapon? Have you been hit in the head a few too many times?".

Spitelout roared with laughter and ruffled the boy's hair. He explained himself over the boy's squawking protest "Well you see, I figured that a bow would be a lot easier for you to use than a close-quarter weapon. It's lighter, you see, and it'll keep you away from the thick of the action but you'll still be able to help out."

Hiccup glanced down at the bow, and back up at Spitelout. He smiled, a true smile, and asked "But where did you get it? Did you make it?"

Spitelout's smile became watery, and he sighed, before running his hand over the bow "Aye, I did son. A long time ago, for someone very special." He glanced up into Hiccup's eyes "I made it for your mother on her 15th birthday." His eyes became glazed as thought back to years ago, to happier times when he and his sister Valka would spend much of their time together.

Hiccup's eyes widened "Wow, I didn't know mum used a bow. I always figured she used a hammer or an axe, like dad."

Spitelout smirked "Aye, she was a slender thing, your mother, not built for in-close fighting like the rest of us. You're built much the same as her, you know. Some people seem to forget that" he turned his head, eyes resting on the form of Stoick the Vast, who was gorging himself with on an entire boar.

Hiccup turned to where his uncle was looking, before turning grateful eyes back to the man "Thank you, uncle."

Gobber tapped his hook against the table, drawing Hiccup's attention "Hey now, don't you be forgetting about old Gobber. I promised you a cracker of a present, and that is what you shall receive". With this, the old blacksmith withdrew a quiver, filled to the brim with arrows. He handed them over to Hiccup, who smiled in joy at his friend.

"Made the tips from Gronckle iron, I did. You don't want to know the bother I went through to get that, I can tell you."

Hiccup laughed softly, and turned his face up to the man "You're the best, Gobber."

"I know I am, lad".

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day had just gotten a whole lot better.

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Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day was drawing to a close.

He'd begged off the party relatively early, once it was obvious that the only people who actually cared that it was his party were Gobber, Spitelout and his father, perhaps. He made his way home and up the stairs to his room. He walked over to the window and looked out at the stars. The sky was clear tonight. He placed his bow and arrows in the corner of his room, and he couldn't wait to go out tomorrow and practice with it. How he'd do that when he didn't have the slightest clue how to use it was anyone's guess, but Hiccup was nothing if not determined. With a yawn, he kicked off his boots, right next to his bed as always, and lay fully-clothed on top of his bed. He laid his head on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

"This day wasn't so bad after all."

BOOM

Hiccup shot out of his bed, feeling the floor shake at the sudden noise. He ran to the window after picking himself up off the floor after he'd yet again tripped over his shoes and looked out over the village. The sky was blazing with fire. A raid! The warning horn sounded, and he could hear all the warriors emerging from the Mead Hall. Hiccup panicked, wondering what he should do. His father was always telling him to stay inside and out of the way whenever the dragon's raided, but surely they needed him out there? The thought had no sooner entered his mind when a sword flew through the air and embedded itself into the side of a Deadly Nadder. It dropped to the ground like a stone.

Okay, maybe _they_ didn't need him, but Gobber would, right? He'd had quite a lot to drink, and would need his help at the forge. Hiccup ran to his boots, yanking them onto his feet, not being entirely sure if he'd put them the right way around. No matter, he didn't have the time to check. He ran down the stairs and burst through the door, expertly weaving through the villagers.

He arrived at the forge, where Gobber was manning the counter, throwing weapons out to everyone who had need of them.

"I'm here, I'm here, what do you want me to do?"

Gobber turned and smiled slightly at his apprentice. If he was going to go out during a raid, at least he'd had the sense to come here where Gobber could keep an eye over him. And let's be honest here, he kind of needed Hiccup around, especially when he'd had a few jugs of mead.

"Swords, sharpen, now." Hiccup nodded and began to turn the grinder that sharpened the weapons. The two worked together in perfect sync for a while, until an unmistakable screech was heard. A Night Fury! Not a second after the sound came the explosion from its plasma blast. Hiccup heard the screams, and Gobber changed his hook hand around for his hammer.

"They need me out there, Hiccup. Make sure you stay in here and be safe, got it?" Hiccup nodded fervently at the blacksmith, and Gobber ran out of the forge with a war cry. Hiccup carried on his task of sharpening the swords for, oh, a good thirty seconds before he glanced back out of the doorway. A Night Fury. If there was anything a Viking valued, it was the ability to bring down and kill a dragon. Just imagine, he, Hiccup the Useless, being the one to bring down the dreaded Night Fury. Hiccup stopped what he was doing as a brainwave hit him. Spitelout and Gobber had given him just what he needed to bring it down! It was his destiny, Hiccup was sure of it. Why else would there be a dragon attack the very day he was given his bow and arrow, the same bow his mother had used herself. Hiccup nearly danced with glee and turned to look for his bow. That is, until he realised that he'd ran out of the house without it.

Hiccup groaned, trust him to fail to achieve his destiny thanks to forgetfulness. If only he had something that could shoot down that dragon, he'd be a hero! The village would worship him, his father would be proud of him, Astrid would love him...the Bola! Of course! Okay, it had some mild-calibration issues, but it was still usable. In a flash, Hiccup ran to the back of the forge to his own private workshop and tore the cover off his contraption. He unlocked the brakes on the wheels and tore out of the forge towards the cliffside.

He arrived at his vantage point, eyes carefully scanning the night sky. He couldn't see a thing, but he knew, he just knew, that it was his destiny to shoot down that Night Fury. He gave the bola a gentle pat "You're going to make me famous". But of course, anything that involved Hiccup was destined to end in tragedy, and Hiccup's gentle, almost feather-weighted touch had set the bola off. He watched as the bola shot forward, failing to release and causing it to snap back and ensnare Hiccup himself. The Night Fury was gone.

"Oh great. At least no one saw that."

Hiccup wished he'd kept his big mouth shut. Not a second after those fateful words had been said, he heard a growl from behind him. Awkwardly shuffling until he could see behind him, he saw the sight no Viking ever wanted to see. A Monstrous Nightmare, covered in flames and staring at Hiccup with murderous intent. And Hiccup couldn't help but realise that he was all alone with this frightful beast, and, just his luck, he was trapped and wrapped like a present, ready to be taken off and devoured.

"HELP! SOMEONE! HELP!". His cries startled the dragon, and it raced forward, ready to end Hiccup's pathetic existence. Hiccup struggled against the ropes, desperately trying to free himself. That's when he remembered the dagger. He managed to pull it out of his pocket, not the safest place to keep it, but it would do for now. He slashed at the ropes and managed to free himself, just in time for the dragon to pounce. Hiccup curled into himself, trying to give as much protection as he could from what was to come. His eyes slammed shut, and he screamed in terror.

Hiccup heard a furious shout, and then the sound of meaty flesh slamming against scales. He dared to open his eyes a fraction and saw none other than his father, Stoick the Vast, who had come to save his son yet again. The dragon had reared back a safe distance from Hiccup, and Stoick advanced upon the beast. The Nightmare tried to burn him to a crisp, but all that came out was a few sparks. Stoick chuckled at the beast "You're all out." With those words, he dove, attacking the dragon with fists, feet and, Hiccup would swear on it until the day he died, his teeth. Eventually, the Chief dove onto the Dragon's back, pinning it down in time for others to arrive and tie it down.

Hiccup breathed for what felt like the first time in minutes, and relief washed over the boy. He turned to his father "Looks like this dagger came in handy-" he cut himself off, only just noticing the furious glare his father had leveled him with. Stoick stalked over to his son until he was standing directly over him. "Tell me what happened. Now."

Hiccup looked at his dad's stormy expression and told him everything. How he wanted to bring down the Night Fury, how he'd used his bola-launcher, but it had backfired and snared him instead, and then the Nightmare had shown up. All throughout Hiccup's tale, the surrounding villagers listened in silence, until he reached the end and they all burst out laughing.

"You?! Bring down a Night Fury?! That'll be the day."

"Imagine it, Hiccup the Useless, scourge of the Night Fury."

" _This_ is our future Chief?! He's got his shoes on the wrong feet, for Odin's sake!"

Hiccup stood, listening to the words, feeling the pain they caused him to wash over him. Stoick looked at the ground, knowing what the villagers were saying was true. He turned to Gobber as the blacksmith hobbled his way over "Take him home, Gobber. And make sure he stays there."

Gobber walked over to the boy, and laid his one remaining hand on his shoulder, leading him away. They passed by the other teenagers, who one by one jeered the lad even more, led of course by Hiccup's own cousin. The boy didn't look up, didn't reply, until a female voice said "Just like I said. A hiccup." Hiccup's head shot up, and he stared disbelievingly at the face of Astrid Hofferson. Never before had she joined in the jeering, usually preferring to just glare at the Chief's son before turning her nose up at him. Hiccup looked away from the face that dominated his dreams and wearily continued walking home.

They arrived at the door to his home, and Hiccup laid his hand on the doorknob.

Gobber stopped him and asked, "What were you thinking, lad?"

Hiccup turned to the man and stared him in the eyes "I just wanted to be like everyone else Gobber. I just wanted to be a Viking." He turned and opened the door, swiftly closing it behind him. He leaned against the hard wood, and slid down onto the floor.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's day was the worst day of his life.

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 **A/N**

 **Okay, so that's the very first chapter of my very first story. Stick with me, I've got a plan. I think. Please follow, review, and have a great day.**


	2. Stoick's Plan

**This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did. I'll be updating pretty regularly, so make sure to favourite and review if you want to see more. Have a good one.**

 **Also, I'm looking for a Beta to read over my content before I post it and help me work through any issues, I've not written a story in about ten years so I need all the help I can get. If you're interested, please PM me.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. However, if DreamWorks would like to hand Toothless over, I'd be much obliged.**

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When Hiccup awoke the next day it was already late in the morning. His eyes fluttered open as his brain slowly regained consciousness. There were no birds cheerfully serenading him into the day, which didn't surprise the small boy. Yesterday morning had started his day off so well, before it shot downhill quicker than Snotlout in the Thawfest barrel-rolling contest (the idea was, you rolled your barrel at the top of the hill, and just before it gains maximum speed, you jump on the top and try to ride it to the bottom. Needless to say, Hiccup wasn't too great at this particular event, having broken his right arm and cracked three ribs the one and only time his father allowed him to compete).

He lazily rolled himself out of his bed, taking special care not to trip over his shoes. He succeeded and mentally cheered himself at his small victory over the universe. He dressed slowly, knowing that, if his father was awaiting him downstairs, then he was in for the mother of all dressing downs. Best not to hurry into such a situation. His eyes lingered over the green tunic, hanging limply on his wardrobe door. "How many more days will I wear this?" Hiccup thought to himself "How many more days will I be the heir?". Hiccup knew that the village all thought he would make a poor chief, and he was hesitant to doubt their predictions of failure and catastrophe. But nothing could change the fact that, one day, he _would_ take over from his father. He'd never officially been named his father's heir, it was usually done on a child's sixteenth birthday amidst great joy and celebration, but Hiccup had no reason to doubt that his father would name him. He'd been told all his life of his eventual destiny, that he would lead Berk once his father stepped down, through his own choice or not. Hiccup hoped it would be the first reason. His father loved him, however difficult he found showing it, and wouldn't cause Hiccup the pain and humiliation of having his birthright stripped away from him. Right?

Hiccup stealthily made his way downstairs, expertly leaping over the creaky sixth step. He reached the second to last step and looked out into the downstairs area. His father was there, oh joys, but thankfully had his back to the boy, cleaning out the fireplace. It was summer on Berk, or at least what surmounted to a summer, and they wouldn't need the fire for few months at least, so it was a good time to give the area a thorough clean.

Hiccup jumped the last two steps, and to his immense disbelief, managed to stick the landing with style and grace. Absently, he let out a small cheer at this grand achievement, before realising his mistake. His father, who was bent over scrubbing at the soot-covered wall at the back of the fireplace, suddenly reared up, smashing his head upon the mantelpiece. Stoick the Vast stepped back out of the fireplace and shook his great head with a groan of pain, trying to stave away the sudden disorientation. "Wha-Hiccup, is that you? Thor, are you trying to kill me?" Hiccup looked back at his father guiltily, shuffling his feet. "Sorry, Dad". Stoick caught the meaning in his son's words, he wasn't just apologising for startling him, was he? Stoick heaved a great sigh and covered his eyes with a weary hand. How many more times could Hiccup cause mayhem and pandemonium wherever he went, risking not just his own life, but the lives of his tribesmen, and all he had to do was apologise? Admittedly, this time no one, other than Hiccup himself, had been hurt, but that idiotic contraption of his, that Bola-Launcher, had to be destroyed. No more of his people would come to harm from his son's crazy inventions. He couldn't keep allowing Hiccup, his only heir, to fail so miserably at being a Viking. He lowered his hand and turned to answer his child.

"Hiccup, son, this can't go on. When are you going to learn that the only way to do things is the Viking way? Your silly inventions never work, and cause more harm and damage than any dragon, bar that blasted Night Fury, is capable of."

"Dad, I-"

"Save it, Hiccup. It's the same story again and again. 'Dad, I just thought if I did this' 'Dad, what if we try that?' No, Hiccup. I don't want to hear the same excuses. I'm growing tired of having to explain your shortcomings to the village, and I'm struggling to come up with reasons why they should believe in you. Son, I know that there is a Viking in there, deep inside of you just waiting for a chance to shine. There has to be, you are a Haddock, and most importantly, you are _my_ son. But if that Viking doesn't show himself soon, I just don't know what I'm going to do with you." Stoick shook his head, sadness welling up inside him from the very pit of his stomach. He could see the effect his words had on his boy, the pain it caused him to here his own father's disappointment in him, but Stoick truly did not know what else he could do or say to his son to knock some sense into him. He thought back to long ago, when his Hiccup was just a newborn babe, so tiny, so fragile. Valka, beautiful Valka, had worried so over his small size, fearing he wouldn't make it. But Stoick had had faith in his little bundle of joy, and proudly proclaimed that one day, his Hiccup would be the greatest Viking of them all. But over the years, with each failure to perform the simplest of feats and his underwhelming size, Stoick's faith in his son had depleted and he was scraping the barrel for reasons why he should believe in him.

He looked down at his son, involuntarily feeling despair at the sight of Hiccup's eyes welling up with tears. The Viking side of his mind screamed that he should berate the boy for showing such weakness, but the parent side of his mind battled back, shouting at Stoick to comfort his son. Eventually, Stoick's better nature won out. He closed the gap between father and son in two short steps and rested his giant hands on his son's shoulders.

Hiccup looked up at his father, having failed to notice his approach with how much his mind had clammed over with shame. He looked up into his dad's sea-green eyes, seeing the love reflected back in them, and felt comfort wash over him. Yes, he'd disappointing his father for what felt like the hundredth time, but his father still loved and believed in him. He smiled gratefully at the giant man "I promise Dad, I'll try to be the Viking you want me to be. I'll go out with my bow, and my dagger, and I'll practice all day, every day. I'll prove to you and to everyone else that I can do it."

Stoick smiled sadly down at his son. He knew that simply mastering a few forms of weaponry at this stage was not enough to change the doubts in the villager's hearts and minds, but he couldn't bring himself to dampen his boy's resolve. He changed his smile to one of encouragement, and ruffled the boy's hair "Best to get some breakfast in you first, eh? You don't want to be practising on an empty stomach, trust me." He led Hiccup over to the table, seating him before walking to the pantry and retrieving a few rounds of bread and butter. He placed them before his son, watching him start to wolf the food down, before making his way to the door "Don't be out too late, and be safe, got it?"

Hiccup nodded at his father, mouth full of food. His father turned to walk out of the door, and Hiccup hastily swallowed down his mouthful. Choking slightly, he pounded his chest until the blockage cleared "Dad?"

Stoick turned, hand ready to close the door behind him "Hiccup?"

"Thanks, Dad."

Stoick smiled at his son, briefly, before closing the door and heading out.

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True to his word, once he'd finished his breakfast, Hiccup excitedly retrieved his bow and arrows, and, with a little hesitation, the dagger his father had bought him. He made his way out of his home, expertly weaving through the streets, avoiding any of the villagers. He didn't want anyone to see him, lest they follow him and laugh at his almost-certain failure. He shook himself out of such negative thoughts, he _would_ succeed. He had to, he'd promised his father.

Hiccup reached the forest without attracting any unwanted attention, or at least he hadn't to the best of his knowledge, and made his way through the trees towards the area where Astrid had been practising the day before. Okay, maybe if he didn't want to be interrupted, going to the patch of forest where he knew the blonde girl spent most of her time perfecting her skills wasn't the best of ideas, but Hiccup couldn't help but think that perhaps this area gave good luck. After all, Astrid was pretty much the same size as Hiccup, and she excelled with all kinds of weaponry, whereas Hiccup, well, didn't. Maybe this area was the perfect place to practice and finally get some form of combat right?

He set himself up around 30 feet from a huge tree, with a big, round trunk. He'd start off with an easy target, hopefully perfecting his technique to a high enough standard that when he turned to smaller targets, he'd be able to hit them. He decided to start with his dagger, after all, it was the weapon his father had given him, and wouldn't he be so proud of his son if he came home and told him with full honesty that he could use a dagger like everyone else? He walked to the tree and carved a big target in the wood. Returning to his starting point, he held the dagger firmly in his right hand, feeling the weight of the blade. It was actually quite light, especially compared to the heavy swords and hammers he had to carry around at the forge. It just felt strange in his hand, like it wasn't meant to be there. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing down, trying to feel calm and focused, but he couldn't help hearing the rustling of the trees, the birds swooping around in the sky, calling to one another. He opened his eyes again, locked them onto the target, took aim and threw the dagger with all his might. It flew through the air, straight past the tree and completely missing the target. Odin, this was going to be a long day.

Again and again, the boy religiously threw the dagger, and once or twice he did manage to hit the tree, just never anywhere near the target. He looked to the sky with growing desperation. How could he be so _useless?_ He felt the dagger in his hand again, and couldn't help but notice how strange it felt to hold it in his right hand. Hiccup, unlike every other Viking on Berk, was left-handed. He wrote with his left hand, used a spoon with it, lifted things with it, so using his left hand felt natural. But Hiccup so desperately wanted to be like everyone else, he essentially handicapped himself by only ever wielding a weapon with his right hand, and when he inevitably failed, he gave up. Sighing to himself, he slowly, almost like it was a sin, passed the dagger into his left hand. It felt so much better! His fingers curled around the handle naturally, the weight almost feeling like an extension of his arm. He gradually got back into position, resting on the balls of his feet, all his weight centred on his back left leg. Suddenly, he threw all his weight forward onto his right leg as he swung his arm forward, letting the dagger fly. It soared towards the target and landed dead-centre. Hiccup stood, frozen in place, arm still extended outwards towards the tree that now held a distinctly metallic-looking new branch. Life raced back into the boy's body, and he jumped into the air, whooping and hollering with joy. He'd done it! He'd actually done it!

Hiccup sauntered towards the tree and deftly pulled the dagger out. He couldn't believe it. He twirled the blade around, swiping at imaginary foes "Haha, not so useless now, are we? I knew all this raw-Vikingness couldn't be contained for long!" He almost skipped back towards his starting point and readied himself once more. He threw, the dagger flew, but he missed the target. Only by a few centimetres, but he'd missed all the same. Despair crashed down upon the boy, he knew it was too good to be true.

The walk to retrieve his dagger couldn't have been more different than the one previously. His shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, it looked for all the world like the boy was walking to his death. He pulled the dagger out half-hearted, and slowly shuffled back to his position. He thought he'd finally done it, had finally managed to achieve something that would make his father proud. He stood, berating himself for his latest failure. Minutes passed, and all the boy could feel was the depression sinking in. He was used to this feeling, this great weight upon his shoulders. But then he remembered the joy at hitting the target, at succeeding, and Hiccup wished with all his heart to feel that great feeling once more. His eyes drifted up towards the target, he could see the mark where he'd hit the centre just minutes before. He breathed in, slowly and calmly, and determination set into his mind. He'd done it before, he could do it again. He knew he could do it again. Slowly, he relaxed his tense muscles and set himself once more. Fluidly, he threw the dagger, and it embedded itself almost perfectly into the same hole he'd made before. Hiccup smiled.

He spent three more hours practising, gradually getting better and more precise. Okay, he still missed the target a few times, but his successes vastly outweighed his failures, and Hiccup could proudly say that he was proficient with his dagger. He carefully cleaned the blade with a few leaves, making a mental checklist of everything he did before he successfully hit the target, memorising the details of his stance, his arm movements, everything. He'd come back tomorrow, and he'd repeat the same motions until he was perfect. Many called Hiccup scatterbrained, but when he set his mind to something, he did everything in his power to achieve his goal, and he knew that he would succeed this time. He looked up at the sun, noting how low it appeared in the sky. It was getting late, he didn't have enough time to practice with his bow. He told himself that tomorrow, he'd get up early and start learning how to use it, he'd spend all day until he managed to hit the target with one of his arrows. Then, once he felt he was at the same standard with his bow as he was with his dagger, he'd practice set amounts of time for each until he was perfect. He smiled to himself and began to make his way home, proud of the day's efforts. He couldn't wait to tell his father.

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Astrid Hofferson sat on a tree stump outside her house, sharpening the blade of her axe with care and devotion. She inspected the weapon, remarking on how it didn't have much more use, she'd used it that often. She sighed to herself, she'd had this axe ever since she was a little girl, and she'd grown and adapted to it. She looked up from her musings and saw the Haddock boy scurrying through the village, stopping every now and then to check he wasn't being noticed. He carried a bow and arrow, and had that dagger he'd shown her yesterday tucked into his belt. Now, what on Midgard was he planning to do with those? Astrid never really took notice of other people, but she couldn't help but think how _weird_ it was to see Hiccup with a weapon, never mind two. She remembered the few times she'd seen him previously, and how she thought that he wasn't actually that bad, he just lacked any technique. Or grace. Or power. Intrigued, she rested her axe against her shoulder and stealthily followed the boy, determined to see the future chief (she shuddered) in action.

She followed Hiccup until he stopped in an area that was immediately familiar to the girl. How dare he?! This was _her_ spot, and he was going to ruin it with his uselessness. She stopped herself from forcibly dragging the pipsqueak away, and carefully sat on the forest floor, leaning against a tree. From her vantage point, she could see him perfectly. She watched as he carved a target into a huge tree. Really? He couldn't challenge himself with a thinner, harder to hit tree? She chuckled to herself, remembering that this _was_ Hiccup, she shouldn't overestimate his abilities.

How right was she? She silently observed his pathetic attempt to throw the dagger at the target, how it flew straight past the _entire tree_ , and watched him scurry forward and retrieve it. She was wasting her time watching this, but she couldn't help but find amusement from the situation. Over and over, Hiccup threw the dagger, never hitting the target, never even throwing it in the same line! Sometimes he did manage to hit the tree, which at this stage Astrid gave him some pitying credit for, but never with enough power for it to really embed itself into the trunk. If it had been a person he'd hit, she honestly thought a splinter would hurt more. She watched him for another hour or so until he stopped and looked to the sky. There it was, he was giving up. _Like always,_ she thought to herself scornfully. He'd always give up once something was too hard for him to do. She'd never admit it to anyone, but Astrid had struggled like Hiccup when she'd first started using her axe. Okay, she was eight at the time, but she still struggled. But she didn't allow herself to give up, she kept at it until she perfected her technique, and with it she grew in strength until wielding her axe was as easy as breathing. She stood, and walked away from the clearing. There was nothing more for her to see, she had been right yesterday, he really was just a hiccup. As she made her way out of the forest, she could hear the boy shouting and screaming. He'd probably cut himself, knowing him.

She made her way home, walking up the winding path to her front door. Dragon Training would start in a few days, and Astrid couldn't wait. She'd been angry that it had been canceled the year before when Gobber joined what had been the latest attempt to find the dragon's nest, and she'd been old enough to join. But now, finally, she was going to enter, and she was going to win. She knew she was going to win, none of the other teens stood a chance against her. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, couldn't keep focused on anything other than fighting each other, and Fishlegs Ingerman was just too timid to be any good at fighting, despite his size. Pathetic. Snotlout Jorgensen could have been a challenge to her, but he'd recently realised that Astrid was a beautiful girl, if she did say so herself, and couldn't fulfill his potential if he was constantly hitting on her. She didn't know why, but the very thought of the boy disgusted her. He was the epitome of what a Viking his age should be, strong, skilled and used actions before words, but for whatever reason, this turned Astrid off completely. None of the other boys on the island were even remotely attractive to her, though she admitted to herself that Hiccup was kind of cute, that wasn't enough when the boy couldn't do anything right. No, none of them were good enough for Astrid. She was going to be a shield maiden, a warrior of Berk, where she would go down in history as the greatest warrior Berk had ever seen.

She opened the door to her home, expecting to see her mother and father readying their supper, but as she looked up she gasped in shock at who she saw sitting with her parents at the table. What was Chief Stoick doing here?!

Astrid felt a bubble of fear in her stomach as she closed the door behind her.

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Hiccup finally arrived home, aching all over but feeling immensely proud of his achievements. He couldn't wait to tell his father! He made his way up to his room, setting his weapons down in the corner. He sat on his bed, ready to take off his shoes and settle in for the night when he heard a knock at the door. Hiccup's head perked up, who could that be? His father obviously wouldn't be knocking, and he had no friends who would come for him, so Hiccup was stumped.

Hiccup went downstairs and opened the door. He saw the large figure standing in the doorway, a displeased frown upon his face. "Oh, it's you Gobber. Well, Dad isn't here right now, and-"

"Your father sent me to get you, lad, now come along." Without giving the boy a chance to speak, he lifted him by the back of his tunic with his hook and set the lad down on the front step before closing the door. Gobber sighed internally, he couldn't believe Stoick had decided to do this. He motioned the lad to follow him, and Hiccup dutifully followed the older man, almost running to keep up with his large steps.

"Gobber, what's going on? And why do you look so upset?". Hiccup looked up into the face of his mentor, he knew the man well enough to see when he wasn't happy, and Gobber definitely wasn't happy. The older man looked down at him, shaking his head slightly.

"I can't tell you, lad. You'll see for yourself soon enough." With that, he quickened his steps, wanting to get his part in this foolishness over and done with. After a few minutes walk, they arrived at their destination. He knocked on the door three times, impatiently waiting for it to open.

Hiccup hurried up to the blacksmith's side, curiosity peaked. They were at the Hofferson's house "Gobber, why-" He was cut off by the door suddenly opening, a confused Astrid standing on the other side. Gobber looked past the girl, and nodded to Stoick once. He laid a comforting hand on his apprentice's shoulder, before turning away and walking back down the path.

Hiccup watched his friend leave, confused about what was going on. He looked back to the doorway, past the beautiful girl standing there, and saw his father sitting at the Hofferson's table with Astrid's parents, Henrik and Helga. His father beckoned him inside, and he stepped through the doorway, glancing at the girl beside him. She looked just as confused as he did. He made his way over to the table, and sat beside his father, who draped a beefy arm over his shoulders. Astrid closed the door, and sat on the other side of the table between her parents. Stoick, once everyone was seated, cleared his throat.

"I apologise for intruding upon your home like this, Henrik, Helga, but I come here not as a Chief but as a father." With this, he glanced down at his son. The boy was looking back at him, confusion clear as day in his eyes. Stoick continued "It's no secret that my Hiccup is, well...different than other boys, and I find myself worrying about him, about what will become of him when I am gone. I've deliberated over this for some time, and I believe the best course of action to be this. I would like to arrange a marriage between Hiccup and your Astrid."

Henrik and Helga blinked in surprise, whereas Astrid gaped in shock. No! This couldn't be happening to her. She made to speak, but her father's hand on her shoulder quieted the girl's outburst. Her father spoke in a calm, clear voice. "Well, Stoick, this is most unexpected. I understand as a parent the desire to protect your children, but I must ask, why Astrid? And why a marriage such as this?". Astrid looked at her father, betrayed. He couldn't be actually thinking about doing this to her, could he?

Stoick nodded at the man, accepting Henrik's question as being a valid one "It's obvious to everyone in the village that your daughter will be a great warrior, so it goes without saying that she'd be able to protect Hiccup that way. But most importantly, she has a good head on her shoulders, and would make a fine wife for a future Chief. The only other girl his age is the Thorston girl, and I think we all know that that one should never be allowed any power over Berk." Henrik nodded his head at the man's answer, he raised fair points, but he needed a bit of time to think this over. Thankfully, his wife stepped in.

"We will need to think on this a bit further, Stoick, but in the meantime, what is your offer? We are a strong family, and honourable to the last, but we don't have the money to pay for what would be such an extravagant wedding, the wedding of the Chief's son."

Stoick sighed "I would be more than willing to pay for everything. Hiccup here would forge the swords for both sides, all Astrid would need to do is turn up."

Henrik thought over the offer, accepting that it was a good one. His daughter would be well taken care of, and would gain power and prestige as the Chieftess of Berk. Henrik thought on the boy she would be marrying, Hiccup was a good lad, and would treat his daughter with love and care. He had a soft spot for the lad, and often spoke to the boy when they crossed paths. But it was true that the boy was a klutz, and the rest of the village might look down upon Astrid for being saddled with him. Eventually, he reached his decision. The benefits more than outweighed the drawbacks, but he would not enter any official agreement without first talking to his daughter. He looked to his wife, and knew she agreed with him. He turned back to the Chief, resting his hands on the table in a respectful manner.

"This is a more than generous offer, Stoick, and I'd be more than happy to accept. You've a good boy there, who'd treat my little girl right. However, my wife and I will not enter our daughter into anything that she doesn't want, so in the end it is up to Astrid whether or not we accept. Astrid?". Henrik looked at his daughter, seeing the shock still written on her face. Suddenly, she seemed so much older than usual, and Henrik was suddenly aware that the little girl he had carried on his shoulders was now almost a woman.

Astrid looked at her father and felt a wave of affection for the man. He hadn't snapped Stoick's hand off like so many other father's would, he'd given her the chance to make her own decision and decide her own fate. Astrid thought over what this would mean for her. On the one hand, she'd have power, not just politically, being the future Chieftess of the tribe, but in the marriage itself. She knew she could run roughshod over the boy, and he'd never lay a hand on her if she didn't want him to, and she definitely didn't want him to. On the other hand, it was _Hiccup._ The boy who could do nothing right, who was the worst Viking to ever live, and this was the boy she would be marrying? No, Astrid thought, she could be offered all the power in the world, all the gold and jewels her heart could desire, but it wasn't enough to be saddled for the rest of her life to a hiccup.

She looked up resolutely at the Chief, who looked hopeful that she would accept. _Fat chance. "_ No, Sir. I refuse to marry your son. I'd become a laughingstock, no one will respect me. I will _never_ marry Hiccup."

Stoick's hope came crashing down at the girl's words, but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry at her. This had been a long shot, he knew it. He stood, dragging his son up with him, wanting to get out of this mess as quickly as possible. He bowed his head to the Hofferson's "I thank you for your time and for considering our offer. I hope Astrid finds the man she is looking for." He smiled at the girl as best he could, and lead his son out of the house.

Hiccup, for his part, felt like Mjölnir itself had been rammed into his gut. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, he could barely walk. He'd hoped, oh, how he'd hoped that one day, he would gain Astrid's affections, and would be lucky enough to marry her. But now...he knew that would never happen. She'd said it herself, "I will never marry Hiccup." They reached their home, and to Hiccup it had lost all it's comfort and warmth. The place felt as dark and gloomy as his thoughts, and he went to the stairs, ready to throw himself onto the bed and cry his heart out.

Stoick stopped his son just before he made the climb "I'm sorry, Hiccup." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. There was only one other thing he could think of doing, and he didn't like it one bit. He steeled himself, before speaking to his son once more.

"Chin up, son. You'll be able to show her how wrong she was to turn you down when you beat her in Dragon Training." Stoick watched the boy's head perk up, eyes wide and disbelieving. Figures, Stoick thought, he could barely believe he was letting Hiccup compete himself.

"W-What? Dragon Training? Do you mean it, Dad?". Stoick swallowed down his vehement denials that no, actually, he wasn't going to enter Dragon Training because he'd surely be killed at the first stage. He nodded slightly, feeling like he was dooming his boy. Hiccup, however, smiled deeply, and to Stoick's surprise, hugged him around the middle. Stoick awkwardly patted him on the back, and Hiccup stepped away, looking up at him with grateful eyes. Despite his misgivings, Stoick's heart sang with joy that he'd managed to bring happiness to his son, even after the Hofferson girl, who Stoick knew his son was sweet on, had crushed his son's dreams. He tried to smile at Hiccup, though it came out as more of a grimace. "Aye, son. And I'll expect good news on my return."

Hiccup's bright smile faltered, he knew what that meant. His father was going to try to find the nest again, and stop the war. Even as the realisation seeped in, his father was moving to the closet, retrieving his travel sack and a few spare weapons.

Stoick grabbed his gear, straightening up and heading for the door "Right. Train hard. I'll be back, probably."

Hiccup looked back at his father, determination blazing in his eyes. "And I'll be here, definitely. I promise I won't let you down, Dad."

Stoick nodded at his son, and walked out of the door. He walked down to the docks, nodding and waving at well-wishing villagers as he went. Odin, he hoped Hiccup would succeed. He held no illusions that he'd actually win, but he hoped that his boy would pass at the very least. Stoick knew that if Hiccup failed, the village would never see him as a worthy successor, and despite the love and care Stoick felt for his son, they'd be right.

It didn't occur to Hiccup until he'd finally landed in his bed that he hadn't told his father about his successful training in the forest.

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 **Poor Hiccup. How is he going to get through Dragon Training with no Toothless to help him? Stay tuned for the next chapter, please follow, favourite and review. Have a great day.**


	3. Dragon Training

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did. Sorry for the longer gap between updates, I've had other things taking up my time but I'm ready to get back to this story for y'all.**

 **Also, I'm looking for a Beta to read over my content before I post it and help me work through any issues, I've not written a story in about ten years so I need all the help I can get. If you're interested, please PM me.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon.**

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Hiccup awoke to silence. No birds singing sweetly outside his window, no father whittling or humming to himself downstairs, just silence. Most of the time, Hiccup enjoyed a rare moment of silence, but right now the silence felt foreboding to him. Today, he would begin Dragon Training. He'd waited so long for this, and there was always that creeping doubt in the back of his mind over whether his father would allow him to enter, but the day was finally here. Hiccup felt the excitement and fear rise up through his body. On the one side, the excitement of entering training, and, with any luck, getting to at least the final two and impressing his father, never mind the village, consumed a part of Hiccup. On the other, however, the fear that _his father was not here to save him if it all went wrong._ Hiccup knew he had a good, healthy dose of independence about him, thank you very much, and was proud that he was able to look after himself when his father was busy chiefing, or away on a nest hunt (like right now), but still, he'd never been gone when Hiccup might have needed him to save him. Because, Hiccup admitted to himself, he was _lousy_ when it came to defending himself from danger, and his father had saved his life countless times, always there at the last moment to ensure his son was still a healthy, breathing, _living_ boy rather than a pile of ash waiting to be scooped into a jug and scattered into the sea.

Hiccup swung his legs around to rest on the floor and sat on the side of his bed. He began to hyperventilate, images of all the ways he would be in danger flashing through his over-active imagination. He was going to die, he just knew it. He could see it now: Hiccup, pinned to the wall, a Nadder spike jutting out of his chest, blood pooling down on the floor below him. Gobber using his hook to cut the spike off the wall, gently laying his apprentice down and silently weeping. The twins being sent to tell his Uncle Spitelout what had happened, and the Chief's second-in-command breathing harshly in grief before setting out to prepare his nephew's funeral ship. Astrid, standing over his body, arms crossed and shaking her head before coldly remarking "It's like I said. You're just a hiccup. Well, _were_ just a hiccup".

Hiccup stood suddenly, determination blazing in his green eyes. NO, that would _not_ happen. His gaze rested on his dagger and his bow, and he remembered the promise he'd made to his father the night before. He would make his father proud, he had to. Sunlight blazed through the window, illuminating Hiccup. The boy looked out into the sun and knew that the Gods were on his side. With a steely resolve, he walked the length of his bedroom towards his wardrobe and began to dress for the day. Socks, underpants, leggings, boots. He paused, running his hand over the front of his tunic. He had to show everyone that he deserved to wear the special green garment, and that would begin today.

Fully dressed, the boy took a moment and concentrated on breathing in and out slowly, trying to regain the clear, focused state of mind he'd possessed when training in the woods the day before. Feeling ready, he grabbed his dagger and tucked it into his back pocket, decided against taking his bow and arrows as he'd yet to practice with them and would be more likely to hit one of the other recruits than a dragon, and walked out of the room. He stood at the top of the stairs, and closed his eyes "I'll make you proud, Dad. _"_

Hiccup stepped down and...missed the step completely, tumbling the whole way down the stairs before landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

His father wouldn't have been proud of _that._

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Hiccup walked, well, actually, _limped_ up the hill towards the arena. He could see the other teens at the top of the hill, almost through the doorway. Astrid, of course, was at the front of the teens. She clearly thought that she would win Dragon Training with ease, but Hiccup was determined to beat her. He wanted to win and do well anyway, but beating Astrid after what she'd said to him yesterday would be the icing on the cake.

Hiccup arrived at the arena in time to hear Astrid's remark about something only being worth doing if you get a scar out of it. _Vikings._ "Yeah, pain, _love it"_ Hiccup drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm, loud enough to effectively announce himself to the other teens. He had to admit, it hurt a little bit to see the shock and incredulity on all of their faces. Did everyone really think that his father wouldn't let him compete? He was the Chief's son, for Odin's sake. Even if his father didn't care about him, he'd have thrown him in here just to not lose face in front of the village.

Miraculously, Gobber arrived just as the lovely "banter" was beginning to flow, and all the teens snapped to attention. He lined them up before a huge metal door, the sight of which had Hiccup staring with intense suspicion at his mentor, and proceeded to enlighten the recruits on the dragons they would be facing. To Hiccup's _everlasting joy_ they were told that the village had rounded up a Gronckle, a Deadly Nadder, a Zippleback, a few Terrible Terrors, and the end prize for the whole shebang, a Monstrous Nightmare. It was not lost on Hiccup that this was likely the Nightmare that had attacked him during the last raid. Well, he'd be getting his revenge soon enough.

Gobber suddenly pulled down the lever, releasing whatever dragon was inside. How could Hiccup have forgotten Gobber's "learning on the job" teaching style? Panicking, the teens all scattered, and Gobber called out "You'd best be getting yourselves a shield, unless you'd like to be a crater in the ground." The teens hightailed it over to the shield rack, and they all grabbed a shield. All except the twins, that is, who decided that wanted the exact same one _despite the seven others right in front of them._ Hiccup drowned out their argument as he raced off, only hearing the blast, a loud ringing sound, and Gobber calling out that the twins were out. "Well, at least I'm not first out" Hiccup muttered to himself.

Soon after, Fishlegs was taken out of the session. Hiccup chuckled to himself at the way he ran out of the arena, before sobering up when he remembered that _he'd_ ran away screaming like that countless times in the past. At this point, Gobber had instructed Astrid, Snotlout and himself to make noise by banging on their shields with their weapons. It was working, and the Gronckle hovered in place, dazed. Hiccup knew from reading the Dragon Manual that if they kept this up, the Gronckle would drop and be out of the fight. "Come on baby, just a little more." Of course, like with most things in Hiccup's young life, Snotlout had to throw a spanner in the works. Rather than carry on with the tremendously effective technique, the _absolute dimwit_ decided to hit on Astrid instead. Yeah, like that would ever happen. The Gronckle would have more of a chance. Soon enough, the Gronckle recovered its senses and zeroed in on the two. It fired, and Astrid rolled away, leaving Snotlout to take the hit. Now they were down to two. And could you believe it, Hiccup was one of them.

Hiccup looked over at his foe. Vicious, deadly and glaring daggers at him. And then he looked at the Gronckle, which was circling the two teens. Hiccup lowered himself into a defensive stance, completely focused on the task at hand. He was determined to win this thing, and above all, he wanted to beat Astrid. After what she'd said to him yesterday, Hiccup held no illusions that she would ever return the love he felt for her, she saw him as worthless as the rest of the tribe. Well, he'd show her. The Gronckle zoomed towards Astrid, choosing her as its next target. It charged up its shot, but before it could fire, Astrid cartwheeled away, her path taking her directly past Hiccup. And just his luck, it was as she was passing him that the Gronckle released its shot. Hiccup barely had time to raise his shield, before it was blasted away from him. Hiccup began to back away, but the Gronckle never took its attention away from him. Gobber shouted out for Hiccup to run, but he knew he should stand his ground. If he ran, the Gronckle would chase him faster than he could run, and he'd be toast. Surreptitiously pulling out his dagger, Hiccup centred himself, locking eyes with the fast-approaching dragon. He drew his arm back and let his dagger fly, and watched as it sailed towards the centre of the Gronckle's head. It would not miss.

But fate was not on Hiccup's side this day, as Astrid had thrown her axe at the Gronckle from the side, and for once the aspiring Shield-Maiden had missed her target, instead knocking Hiccup's dagger clean off course and far out of reach. Great.

Hiccup was retreating quickly now before his back hit the arena wall. He had no way to escape, and he could hear the sound of the Gronckle charging its blast. This was it. He was dead. The first day of training, and he was going to die. _He'd been so close._

Right as the Gronckle was ready to fire, a hook appeared at the side of its mouth and wrenched the beast away. Gobber had saved him, and Hiccup couldn't be more thankful to his mentor. The old blacksmith gave the boy a small smile, before telling all the recruits "Remember...a dragon will always, _always,_ go for the kill."

Gobber dragged the now shotless Gronckle back towards its cage and ordered the teens to report to the Mead Hall for dinner that night, where they would go over their performances for the day. All the other teens ran over to Astrid, cheering and congratulating her on winning the day, but Hiccup just walked over to where his dagger lay, Astrid's axe lying not a foot to the side. Yes, she'd won. But she'd nearly gotten him killed all the same. That dagger would have killed the Gronckle, meaning Hiccup wouldn't have needed saving _yet again,_ and no matter what else happened, he'd have been the first one of his age group to kill a dragon. His father would have been proud. But no, Astrid-perfect-Hofferson just had to try and steal the glory, making the situation much worse. It suddenly occurred to Hiccup that this must be how his father felt every time one of Hiccup's inventions had gone wrong.

He picked his dagger up from the floor and turned to leave the arena. Before he left, he heard a female voice "Let's just hope that next time one of us doesn't nearly die through his own stupidity."

Hiccup stopped and turned to Astrid with a snarl of rage. But the girl wasn't even facing him, she was picking up her axe from the floor. She carefully ran her hand along the shaft, checking for any damage. Wow, she cared more about that stupid axe of hers more than she cared about his life. His life, in fact, that she'd put in danger today.

Hiccup sighed to himself, and walked off, resolving to practice with his bow until it was time for the meeting that night.

Tomorrow he would beat Astrid Hofferson.

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Hiccup spent the rest of his day in the woods. After nearly five hours of work, he was certain he'd reached the same level with his bow that he had the day before with his dagger. The hundreds of notches in the tree where he'd carved his target were proof of that. In truth, Hiccup preferred the bow to the dagger, but seen as the dagger was the weapon his father had given him, he'd make sure he was perfect with it. Hiccup mused on how impressive the arrow-tips were. He'd used the arrows hundreds of times each, and the Gronckle Iron was still as sharp as ever.

Wiping away the sweat on his face, Hiccup began to make his way back to the village. Already his steps were more assured, confidence in his abilities flowing through him. Hiccup felt anger at himself for not practising like this earlier in his life, rather than doing it out in the open where he could be ridiculed and mocked after failing. He'd failed at first with his dagger, and then with his bow, but without the negative comments and scorn from the village, he'd found that well of determination within him that allowed him to work through his failures and succeed. He was proud of himself, and he'd never realised until then that feeling proud of oneself was just as important as the pride of others.

By the time he'd made it to the Mead Hall, it was pouring with rain. Hiccup's hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes were dripping wet. He quickly made his way through the doors, shutting them after him with a loud bang. He was the last one to arrive yet again. He made his way over to the table where the other teens were sitting, but the twins and Snotlout kept moving so he couldn't sit down. There was no space next to Fishlegs due to his massive size, and there was no way on Midgard he was going to try to sit next to Astrid. With a sigh, he made his way over to the table next to them and sat alone.

Due to his lateness, Gobber had already begun the critique of the day's session. Gobber asked Astrid where she'd gone wrong that day, and her reply angered Hiccup "I mistimed my summersault dive. It was sloppy, it threw off my reverse tumble." Oh, so her nearly getting him killed wasn't wrong? But if it had been Hiccup, they'd have all ridiculed him and called him "useless". Inside, Hiccup seethed. He blocked out what else was being said until he heard his own name being mentioned.

"Alright, where did Hiccup go wrong?" Thank you, Gobber.

"He showed up." _Thank you_ , Ruffnut.

"He didn't get eaten." _Thank you, Tuffnut._

"He's never where he should be." _THANK YOU-_ Wait, how dare she? Hiccup nearly exploded with rage. He was doing fine until she interfered, in fact, he was in the last two! Nobody, NOBODY thought he'd even be in training, and he'd thrived until Astrid nearly got him roasted. Though inside Hiccup was simmering with a rage his father would be proud of, on the outside, nobody could tell that these comments had affected him.

Hiccup was thrown out of his murderous thoughts by a loud thud on the table next to him. Gobber had placed down the Dragon Manual, a book Hiccup was very familiar with. So too, apparently, was Fishlegs, who instantly started sprouting out facts from the book. Gobber told the recruits that they would have to read it front to back, or they'd have no hope of winning the chance to kill the Monstrous Nightmare. The blacksmith left, leaving the teens to read the book. _Fat chance._ As soon as he'd left, Snotlout and the twins began to complain, with Fishlegs trying to tell them how useful the book was, and Astrid was sitting there looking above all of this. Quietly, Hiccup slunk away from the table and towards the door. He wanted to talk to Gobber on his own.

After making his way down the path towards the village, he heard the other teens behind him. Clearly, they'd decided to leave and do something much more interesting than reading. Chancing a look behind him, he noticed all of the other teens heading towards Snotlout's house. The other teens often hung around in the basement where Snotlout's room was. Hiccup for so long had wished to be included with the others, but right now he felt angry at them all, especially Astrid. He'd outperformed all of them today, and they acted as if he had no right to even be there. Well, he'd show them.

Finally arriving at the forge, he found his mentor sitting at his desk, cleaning some weapons that were about ready to be returned to their owners. Hiccup walked in and sat on his usual stool, waiting for Gobber to notice him. Soon enough, the old blacksmith turned to the boy "Aye, I wondered how long until you came to me. I'd wager you want to hear how old Gobber thought you did today, hmm?". Hiccup nodded at the man, the expression on his face one of cautious optimism. Gobber took a moment to finish cleaning an axe, before setting it and the rag down. He turned fully towards his apprentice and gave him a large smile. "I thought you did great, lad. Truly. You followed all my instructions, and it was no mere chance that you were in the final two. But lad...you have no idea how frightened I was when that Gronckle had you in its sight." The man began to wind his finger around his mustache, a nervous habit he had that always amused the boy. "It's always you, isn't it Hiccup? You were doing great... until you weren't. And you nearly died today. Why, I've never moved so fast in all my life. Do you really want to carry on? For whatever reason, whether it be bad luck, poor decisions or simply for the Gods amusement, you always seem to be the one in danger. I don't want to lose you, Hiccup. Apart from being a damn fine smith (capable of taking over from me, even now)...you're like a son to me, lad. I couldn't bear to see you in danger again."

Hiccup's eyed watered involuntarily as he looked up into the older man's worried face. He had a point, these things _always_ seemed to happen to him. But...he'd promised his father, and Hiccup Horrendous Haddock never broke a promise. "I'll be fine, Gobber. You watch. I'll win this thing, and I'll make you, and Uncle Spitelout, and my father proud." Hiccup smiled confidently up at the man, who gave a small smile back. "Aye, I hope so lad. But, if what happens today happens again, I'll have no choice but to pull you out. For your own safety, and mine. Your father would skin me alive if he came back to a dead heir." The man chuckled and leaned over to rest his remaining hand on the boy's shoulder. "You make sure this doesn't happen again, and I won't have to pull you out, deal?". Hiccup nodded firmly, he wouldn't allow himself to be removed from training.

"Deal."

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Hiccup released the breath he was holding, and slowly raised his head from behind the barrier. The Nadder was nowhere in sight. He looked around him, and saw Astrid and Snotlout hiding behind their own barrier across the pathway. It was the second day of dragon training, and Gobber had already raised the stakes. He'd transformed the arena into a sort of maze, in which the recruits had to evade the Deadly Nadder, a quick dragon that had the hottest fire of all. So far, all of the recruits were still in the game, and Hiccup was thriving. All his life, he'd evaded the other villagers as much as he could, being light on his feet and small worked to his advantage. Gobber had told the teens that they had to evade the dragon, and if it found them and attacked, they were out. Of course, they had to escape it first, but they were out once they were safe. It was always safety first with old Gobber.

Suddenly, the Nadder appeared around the corner. It stalked down the pathway, looking for the teens. Out of nowhere, the twins rolled out in front of it. Hiccup tensed, they were going to get fried! But no, Gobber told them that they had successfully found the Nadder's blind spot, which was apparently _right in front of it._ The twins, loudly congratulating themselves, never noticed when the Dragon turned to the side, allowing it to see the pair. It roared, and chased the two down the path, past where Hiccup was hiding. He had to find a way to save them, to let them get out of here safely. Today, he'd brought his bow and arrows with him, as well as his dagger, and he quickly figured out a plan. He notched an arrow and aimed for the wall by the corner the Nadder had come from. He released the arrow, and it hit its mark with a dull thud. The Nadder squawked, turned tail and ran off in the direction of the sound, curious. The twins safely exited the arena, and Hiccup mentally patted himself on the back. Whilst the Nadder was distracted, Astrid and Snotlout ran over the path towards Hiccup, and the three of them began to creep away to another part of the arena.

Distantly, Hiccup heard Fishlegs screaming. He stopped and raised his head, looking out for the large Viking. Ahead of him, Astrid whistled lowly, gaining his attention. She motioned for him to get down, and just as he did, the Nadder appeared on top of the wall ahead of them. Hiccup rolled to the side, hiding behind a barrier. Peaking his head out, he saw Snotlout push Astrid down, standing in front of her "Watch out, babe, I'll take care of this." He swung his mace around before launching it towards the Nadder. He missed completely. With a roar of anger, the Nadder charged, knocking Snotlout to the side with its tail. Hiccup's eyes widened, and he began to run, weaving in and out of the maze. He didn't know where Astrid was, but he could hear the dragon's roars. Despite his anger at the blonde, he still cared deeply for her and hoped she was okay.

Hiccup ran around a corner, before the wall next to him exploded, and something heavy knocked him off his feet. He was lying flat on his back, dazed, with a heavy weight lying on his front. He shook his head to clear his eyes and saw that Astrid was lying on top of him. He heard a squawk, and saw the Nadder about fifteen feet away, struggling to get back to its feet, eyes locked onto the two of them. Astrid recovered, and got to her feet, trying to take her axe with her. Unfortunately, her axe was stuck in Hiccup's shield, which was attached to his arm. She yanked and yanked, trying to pull the axe free, completely ignoring Hiccup's attempts for her to stop and _let him take the damn shield off._ The Nadder had charged by this point and was nearly upon the two. Frantically, Hiccup undid the strap holding the shield to his arm, and Astrid whipped around, striking the Nadder across the face, using the handle of the axe and the shield at the end as a club. Dazed, the Nadder stumbled off, and Gobber quickly ran in and dealt with it. Whilst their teacher was leading the beast back to its cage, Astrid angrily turned back to Hiccup, who was still lying on the ground.

"Is this some kind of a game to you?! Our parent's war is about to become ours, _figure out what side you are on."_ With a furious huff, the girl yanked her axe out of the shield and stalked away. Hiccup jumped to his feet, anger coursing through his veins. He snapped "I know which side I'm on, _Astrid,_ but apparently you don't. That's two days in a row you've nearly gotten me killed, and now you're getting all high and mighty?! You just watch, I'm going to beat you, Astrid, and I'm going to kill the Nightmare-"

"No, lad, you're not." Gobber had finished with the Nadder and had made his way over. "I'm pulling you out of Dragon Training." Hiccup felt like the world around him had fallen away. All he could focus on were the resolute eyes of his mentor and closest friend. "N-no, Gobber, you can't-" Hiccup desperately tried to plead with the man, but Gobber shook his head firmly. "No, Hiccup. We had a deal. Again, you nearly died today. That's twice. I can't, as your teacher, allow you to continue. Training is over for you." Hiccup stared in disbelief at the blacksmith, who patted him once on the shoulder, and turned away. "Right you lot, that's enough for today. All of you go home." The other teens all hurried out of the exit. Only Astrid turned back to look at Hiccup. The boy was facing the ground, shoulders slumped. Astrid allowed herself a small smile, she knew he didn't have what it took.

Hiccup stared at the ground. This was it. He'd promised his father that he wouldn't let him down, that he'd make him proud. But here he was, thrown out of training on the second day. Hiccup fought back the tears threatening to fall. He'd never make his father proud of him now.

He'd failed.

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Hiccup sat in the forge, staring out at nothing. He couldn't go home, not to the place he'd promised his father he'd make him proud. Would it even still be his home, when his father returned? Surely now he'd give up on him, cast him away as the useless Viking all the village thought him to be. And Hiccup for the life of him couldn't help but agree.

For a moment, he'd been furious with Gobber, he'd pulled him out of training when he _needed_ to be there, to win. But Hiccup couldn't stay mad at the man for very long, he knew that Gobber's choice had been made from the heart. He remembered what Gobber had told him the night before, about seeing Hiccup as his own son, and Hiccup knew that the man simply wanted him safe. And Hiccup had agreed with him, made the deal that if his life was truly in danger again, then Gobber would pull him out. In the end, Hiccup just couldn't blame the blacksmith.

But there was one person Hiccup blamed: Astrid Hofferson. That girl had yet again been the cause of Hiccup's failure, and yet again she got away scot-free. He was _winning_ both days until she messed it up. He couldn't believe it. He, Hiccup the Useless, had been the one thriving and succeeding, and then Astrid, perfect Astrid, had been the one to mess things up and nearly cause a disaster, not once, but twice. And yet still, Hiccup had come off worst, and Astrid was still in training, which she would surely win now. It just wasn't _fair._

Hiccup thought on the girl he'd loved ever since he was young, the girl he'd once been friends with. When he used to think of her, there were the usual butterflies in his stomach, the wave of affection for the girl he called "the most beautiful girl on Midgard." But now, after her harsh words in the forest, her scathing reply to his father's offer of marriage, her nearly getting him killed twice and finally getting him thrown out of Dragon Training, he _hated_ Astrid Hofferson. She was nothing but an uncaring, selfish, too-proud-of-herself stuck up _bitch._ And the truth was, she'd been like this for a few years now, but Hiccup had been blinded to her faults due to her beauty and the friendship they had once shared as children. Well, no longer. Hiccup could see her for what she was now, and honestly, HE was too good for HER.

But still, he could blame whoever he wanted to, but the fact remained that once his father arrived home, he'd hear of his son's failure. Sure, Gobber would be honest, and he'd tell his friend how Hiccup _had_ been doing well, better than anyone could have expected, but he'd had to pull him out after nearly dying two days in a row. And his father would understand Gobber's actions, brush aside the praise the old blacksmith would give him, and would surely just see that his son, his heir, was the one teen that had to be pulled out of training for their own safety. The shame he would feel. His father didn't deserve this, his father didn't deserve _him._ Whenever Hiccup thought about his father, he couldn't help but see him as a Thor-like figure, a great warrior capable of leveling mountains and striking down any foe that stood in his way. Yes, to Hiccup, Stoick was right up there with Thor himself.

Thor. That was it.

Hiccup rushed to his desk, pulling out his notebook and charcoal. Yes, he was a failure at everything else, but what had Gobber said? He was a damn fine blacksmith? He was, and he would show his father that he wasn't completely worthless. His father was a great man, a great warrior, and he deserved the finest weapon. And Hiccup would make this weapon for his father and show him the skills he did have. True, Gobber had never allowed him to create an entire weapon by himself, but Hiccup knew he could do this.

Hiccup would have it ready for his father as soon as his ship returned to Berk's dock, he'd apologise to his father for his failure as a son, and he'd give him the first weapon he'd ever created as an apology.

He'd give him Mjölnir.

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 **A/N: Poor, poor Hiccup. I've got to say, this chapter was an absolute slog to get out. To me, these first three chapters were the ones that HAD to be written, to set up the rest of the story I want to tell, but hopefully, you still enjoy it, and I can begin to write my own path for Hiccup.**

 **Thank you all for the support you've given me so far, you have no idea how much it means to me. Please follow, favourite and review, and I'll see you all soon.**


	4. The Announcement

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **Here's a challenge for you guys: Can you guess who my favourite HTTYD character is? Reply in the reviews.**

 **Also, a big thank you to Romantica 21 who has been a big help, I always look forward to your PM's.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon.**

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Six days.

Six days of work in the forge, six days where Hiccup had barely stopped for anything, especially not such trivial matters as eating and sleeping. Six days since Hiccup's world had come crashing down around him.

After his decision to create a perfect replica of Mjölnir for his father, Hiccup had thrown all his energy and brainpower into his self-appointed task. Numerous burns and cuts covered the boy's hands and arms and, somehow, the back of his neck. But it was all worth it. All he had left to do was to carve the runes onto the ends of the hammer itself. He'd already finished the design on the handle, where he had carved a message for his father.

For the entire time that Hiccup had overtaken the forge, he had only seen Gobber once. The blacksmith had dropped by the forge that first night after the fateful training session where Hiccup had been thrown out, explaining his decision to his apprentice and asking for forgiveness. Gobber told him that there was no way he would go back on his decision, but he still didn't want Hiccup to be angry with him. Hiccup hadn't replied to his plea, other than to ask him for permission to use the forge for his plan. Gobber was taken aback but silently marveled at the lad's ambition. He promised Hiccup that the forge was his until his task was completed, and even showed the boy his secret stash of Gronckle Iron, telling the boy he could use it. Hiccup had thanked him stiffly, still a little angry at him, so the man left, telling Hiccup that he needed to meet up with the other teens at one of the watchtowers. Since then, Hiccup hadn't seen hide nor hair of the older man. Gobber _was_ busy with Dragon Training, which apparently Astrid was leading (big surprise), but Hiccup found it odd that the man had yet to show his face. Hiccup resolved to go and eat with the man and show him that he forgave him, just as soon as he was done here.

With a flourish of his hand, the last rune was etched into the hammer's head, and it was complete. Hiccup laid the weapon down on the desk in front of him and stepped back to inspect his work.

It was beautiful.

Hiccup knew he couldn't have done any better with the weapon. He had based the design on a painting of the weapon that had hung in the Great Hall for as long as anyone alive could remember. The head was crafted of stone from the mountains surrounding Berk, rather than the specialist rock that the tribe bought from Trader Johan. Hiccup knew that Berk was forever a part of his father's heart, along with his mother and Hiccup himself, and Hiccup knew that Stoick would be touched that wherever he went, as long as he took this weapon with him, he would always have a part of Berk close to him.

The shaft was created with Gobber's Gronckle Iron and was the perfect length and weight for his father's massive frame. Hiccup knew the legend of Mjölnir, and how the shaft was too small thanks to a forging error, but there would be no such problems for his father. Small notches were spaced sporadically along the shaft, allowing for a greater grip and preventing disarming. A leather strap was attached to the bottom of the shaft, where the strap would be wrapped around the wrist securely.

The finishing touch, however, were the words Hiccup had carved down the length of the shaft. Hiccup had deliberated long and hard over whether to include this message, but in the end, he had decided that it couldn't hurt to let his father know how he felt.

With a smile of accomplishment, Hiccup carefully wrapped the hammer with cloth and carried the weapon out of the forge. He would keep it at his house for safekeeping and would present it to his father once he arrived home. Hiccup absently wondered when that would be, the length of ventures to find the nest varied from year to year after all. Arriving at home, Hiccup awkwardly opened the door whilst precariously holding onto his package, but eventually succeeded. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, Hiccup crossed the large room that doubled as a sitting room and a kitchen and placed the hammer in the small cupboard. He couldn't wait for his father's reaction to his gift.

Hiccup glanced out of the window, looking at the sky. The sun was low, signaling that it was getting late. He'd go to the Mead Hall and spend some time with Gobber, and then, mercifully, he'd be able to get a full night's sleep.

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Luckily for Hiccup, Gobber was eating at a table alone when Hiccup arrived. Shutting the huge doors behind him, Hiccup made his way around the tables full of Vikings, heading for the table of food. As he was filling his plate, Hiccup heard loud voices entering the hall. Looking up, he saw the other teens entering the hall, Astrid at the centre of them all. They seemed to be congratulating the blonde girl, obviously over her winning training that day. Astrid, for her part, didn't seem to be paying the praising teens much mind, what with how she held her chin up so high, they were clearly beneath her. That bitch.

As Hiccup was turning away to head for Gobber's table, he caught Astrid's eye. The girl stopped for a small second, barely even noticeable to anyone watching, but Hiccup saw her hesitance. With a shake of her head, the girl resumed her...strut?...towards the table the teens usually occupied, and the moment was gone.

Hiccup walked up behind Gobber, and the man was so engrossed in his food he didn't appear to have heard his approach. Deciding on a bit of fun, Hiccup slowly crept around until he was on the older man's left side, before slamming his plate down next to his. With a jump, Gobber looked up, ready to berate whatever useless lump that had bothered him, but to the man's shock, he saw the freckled face of his apprentice. The boy sat down next to the blacksmith and calmly began to eat his meal of fish and corn. Gobber smiled, and patted the boy lightly on the back "Ah, so you've decided to show your face in society once again, eh?"

Hiccup snorted and gave the man a side-glance. "Well, my work is finished now, and a growing Viking like me _does_ need to eat, after all."

"Actually, I think your growth has peaked, lad. You could eat an entire yak, and chances are you'd still be a fishbone."

Hiccup chuckled but sobered quickly. "I did miss you, though. A little. It's been a while since I last heard a story about undies."

Gobber sighed, seeing that the boy needed some assurance. "I know you must still be mad at me, lad, and you have every right to be so. But I will not see you in danger when I can prevent it, and if the way I can prevent it causes you to be angry with me, then I would rather take your anger than see you in pain."

Hiccup looked up at the man and shook his head. "Don't worry Gobber, I'm not mad at you anymore. We _did_ make a deal, didn't we? I just found it strange how you weren't at the forge at all, didn't you want to come and make sure I hadn't set the place on fire or accidentally chopped off my hand?"

"I figured I'd leave you to your own devices. The project you'd given yourself, you looked like you had your heart set on it. It's always a special moment when a blacksmith forges their very first custom-made weapon, and I decided that you should do it without any input from me. And, judging from your appearance here, I'm guessing your finished?"

Hiccup smiled at his plate, feeling touched by the man's words. Gobber hadn't stayed away because he thought Hiccup was mad at him, he'd stayed away because he trusted him to create the weapon alone. Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he turned to answer the man "Yep, all done. I just hope he likes it. After all, after my terrible performance in Dragon Training, the least I can do is give him this."

Gobber felt immensely proud of his apprentice, and couldn't wait to see the hammer for himself. Though to the rest of the village, Hiccup was a disaster and a nuisance with his inventions, Gobber knew that they were the result of an incredible mind. The boy had an imagination the God's would be proud of, and he knew that any weapon created by the boy would be something to marvel at. But Gobber's feelings quickly soured when the last part of the boy's sentence sank in. It was a fool's hope that Stoick would brush off his son's failure to pass Dragon Training thanks to a pretty hammer, and Gobber feared that the boy would be dealt yet another harsh blow to his confidence. But right now, the boy needed someone on his side, and Gobber would be there for him no matter what. Ignoring his misgivings, he turned to his apprentice and told him "He'll love it, lad, just you see."

Gobber just hoped that his old friend wouldn't prove him a liar.

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Hiccup awoke abruptly to the sounds of shouting. He jumped out of his bed, deftly dodging his shoes, and rushed to the window. It couldn't be a raid, the dragons never attacked during daylight. Hiccup looked out and saw the villagers rushing about, and tried to single out a shouting voice that could tell him what was going on. He couldn't tell what was happening, they were all hollering at once, it was impossible to hear anything. Quickly he dressed and rushed out the door. He saw Helga Hofferson walking briskly down the path by his house. He caught up to the woman and strode along next to her "Mrs. Hofferson, what's going on?". The woman blinked in surprise, having not noticed the approach of the Chief's son. She smiled lightly at the boy and told him "The ships are here. The warriors are coming home." Hiccup stopped suddenly "My father is home?" The woman turned back slightly as she walked away "Yes, Hiccup. Now if you will excuse me, I must welcome my husband." With that, the woman turned back around and continued her quick walk to the docks.

Hiccup, for his part, ran as fast as he could back the way he came. He hurtled through the door to his house and frantically opened the cupboard. Thank Odin, it was still there, exactly where he'd left it. Almost reverently, he picked up the weapon and made his way out of the house. He walked down the path towards the docks alone, it seemed the rest of the village were already there, waiting.

Hiccup arrived at the docks, huffing and puffing, to find his father already standing on the dock speaking to Gobber. From the expression on his face, he'd already heard of his performance in Dragon Training. Stoick's face was one of deep disappointment and a small trace of sorrow. Hiccup stepped away from the docks slightly, wanting to stay unnoticed until the vast crowd had departed. He looked around at all the families reuniting with one another, watching the wives kiss their husbands, watching the fathers hug their children close. Hiccup cocked his head to the side, confused. Whenever _his_ father returned, Hiccup was greeted with naught but a small nod and a grunt.

Eventually, the docks cleared until only his father, who was still speaking in undertones with Gobber, and Spitelout, who was talking with Snotlout. Hiccup slowly walked over to the men, dread setting in with each step. What would his dad's reaction be? Anger? Sadness? Or maybe, just maybe, acceptance? He'd give him the hammer, and Stoick would see that, okay, his son wasn't a dragon killing Viking, but he was a terrific blacksmith, and every village needed one of those, right? Oh Gods, he was doomed.

As he approached, Spitelout and Snotlout began to walk away from the docks, passing Hiccup. Snotlout leered at his younger cousin, knowing that he was going to have to tell the Chief how he'd been kicked out of Dragon Training. Snotlout knew it was only a matter of time until his Uncle Stoick announced him as Berk's heir, rather than his useless cousin. Spitelout, on the other hand, beamed with joy at the sight of his nephew. Just then, a loud growl of rage was heard from the Chief, and the man's eyes settled on his son. Hiccup stood there, unable to move for fear. Spitelout saw the stiffness in his nephew, and went over to talk to the boy, but thought better of it when the Chief beckoned his son over. With a last glance at his uncle, Hiccup walked slowly towards his father, fearful of his reaction. Spitelout motioned for his son to head on home without him, and the Chief's second in command stayed at the edge of the docks, ready to intervene in what should have been a joyous reunion between father and son.

Hiccup finally arrived before his father and chanced a small look up into his face. He looked furious. Hiccup quickly looked down at his feet, unable to stomach looking into his father's angry eyes. Swallowing down his fear, Hiccup started "Dad, I'm sorry, I-"

Hiccup's apology was cut off when a large shape suddenly shot forwards toward him, and he recognised the shape as his father's large hand. For a fleeting moment, Hiccup felt absolute terror, believing his father was going to strike him down. His father had never hit him before, but then, he'd never caused him such shame before. However, rather than feeling a heavy blow, he felt his fathers hand rest on his shoulder. The hand was soon joined by its brother, and his father crouched down until he was eye to eye with Hiccup. Unable to look away, Hiccup was forced to look into the face of his father.

"Hiccup, how could you? You promised me, _promised,_ that you'd do well. And what do I hear on my return? A disgrace! Thrown out of Dragon Training on the second day due to your own ineptness. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Hiccup's vision became watery, and he desperately tried to quell the tears that threatened to flow. He knew this would happen, he knew his father would be angry and upset with him. "Dad, I'm sorry, I-I really am sorry. I tried, but...I just wasn't good enough." Hiccup spoke in a small, pleading voice, wishing his father would understand that he _had_ tried his best. "I was doing okay, I really was Dad, but things kept going wrong-thanks to _Astrid-_ and I nearly died because of her-"

"NO. No, Hiccup. Do not try to blame others for your own failures. I knew this was a bad idea from the start, but Spitelout convinced me that you should be allowed to enter, and I was right. You're not cut out for this. You're not a fighter, a dragon killer. You're not-" Hiccup's eyes widened, wishing with all his heart that his father wouldn't end his speech with _that_ word "-a Viking."

For the second time in his life, Hiccup felt like the world around him was crumbling down. His father removed his hands from his shoulders, but it made no difference to Hiccup, he felt like the whole world was resting on them anyway. He began to turn away, ready to run home and hide his disgrace from the rest of the world, but a throat clearing caused him to look up. Gobber was motioning to the hammer in the boy's hands, which Hiccup had forgotten all about. Hiccup looked down at the cloth-covered weapon, and suddenly, giving it to his father sounded like a very stupid idea. It wouldn't make a difference to him, wouldn't change the shame he must feel at his useless son. With a resigned sigh, Hiccup turned back to his father.

"Dad, I'm sorry. When Gobber kicked me out, I came up with an idea-" Stoick looked mildly alarmed at this, Hiccup's ideas _always_ ended in a disaster "-and I made you this. I know that I'm useless at nearly everything, Dad, but I am a good at some things. I just wish that you'd see that." With this, Hiccup handed the still-covered weapon over to his father, and bolted. He ran from the docks, straight past Spitelout who desperately tried to reach out to his nephew, and away into the village.

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Stoick watched his son run away, until he could no longer see the scrawny boy. He loosely held the weapon in his hands, but the anger and hurt his son had caused him with his failure was too much. He handed the weapon over to Gobber, and called Spitelout over. Spitelout walked over to the other two men "Stoick, don't you think you were a little harsh on the boy? And you've not even looked at-" Stoick cut him off with a cutting motion of his hand "Enough. Tell all of the village to meet in the Mead Hall tonight, after today's training. Gothi is making her decision today, right? Astrid against Snotlout?" At Gobber's nod, the Chief continued "I have a decision to make." With that, the Chief thundered away towards the Great Hall, not even looking back at the two men.

Gobber and Spitelout stood in silence. Abruptly, the silence was broken by Gobber's angry outburst "Of all the stubborn, boar-headed Vikings, that man is the worst of them. He didn't even listen to _why_ I pulled Hiccup out. All he wanted to hear was that I did. And he didn't care that until the unfortunate near-death experiences, the lad was _winning_."

Spitelout looked up in surprise, Hiccup had been winning? "But then, why did you pull him out?". Gobber shook his head sadly, unable to meet the other man's inquiring gaze. "Because I love him. He's like a son to me, Spitelout. When that Gronckle, and then the Nadder, nearly killed him, I couldn't stand back. Yes, he was doing brilliantly. He was the best, even better than Astrid. It was like everything clicked, his mind for once was working with his body, he was focused, he was calculating. But he was unlucky, like always. He nearly died, Spitelout. Twice. Could he have survived a third? I wasn't going to take that chance."

Spitelout laid a hand on the man's shoulder "Thank you, Gobber. You did the right thing, even though it hurt Hiccup, it's better that he be alive than not. If it had been Snotlout, I'd have expected you to do the same."

Gobber nodded his thanks to the other man, before turning his attention to the still-covered weapon in his hands. Slowly, he unravelled the cloth, revealing the war-hammer to the two men. They both exclaimed in shock at the sight, dumbfounded.

Gobber was amazed, the lad had done it. This was exactly like the painting Berk had of Mjölnir, and the boy had created it perfectly. This was a weapon worthy of Thor himself, he had no doubt. Apart from its beauty, it felt perfectly weighted in his hands for a perfect balance of attacking power and defensive sturdiness. Gobber knew then that Hiccup had little more to learn from him, if he could forge a weapon like _this_ as his first solo creation. He couldn't have been more proud.

Spitelout was filled with an immense sadness at the sight of the hammer. It was perfect, there was no arguing that, and Spitelout would bet that Thor would swap the original for this replica that Hiccup had created. But Spitelout was saddened that his brother-in-law was ignorant to his son's qualities and talents, not even taking a moment to marvel upon the gift his son had bestowed upon him. The evidence was right here, that Hiccup was truly skilled at smithing, and Spitelout was sure the boy had more hidden talents.

Spitelout read the runes carved on the shaft "To me, you are not just a warrior, not just a Chief, not just a father. To me, you are a God."

The two men wrenched their gazes from the weapon, and looked one another in the eye. "We have to make sure Stoick sees this, Spitelout. He has to know." Spitelout nodded, a small frown etched upon his visage. "Yes, we do. But you know how Stoick is. This won't change a thing."

Gobber didn't answer, just wrapped the hammer back in the cloth, and the two began to walk from the docks, heading back into the village. It was nearly time for the final examination, and both men needed to be there, Gobber to give the two teens some final words of advice, and Spitelout to cheer on his son, and hopefully find his nephew and cheer him up.

The two men reached the arena, hearing the crowd cheering. Stoick was standing in front of his seat, giving a rousing speech congratulating both Astrid and Snotlout despite his own personal anger. Before they parted, Gobber finally answered the other man "I know this won't change Stoick's mind, but we both owe it to Hiccup to try. I fear there is going to be even more heartache for that lad, and I'll do everything in my power to stop it from happening."

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The arena had been transformed into a battlefield, with spears and swords scattered around on the floor, ready to be used if the two combatant's personal weapons were compromised. Four sheets of metal were placed sporadically in bunker-like fashion to give the teens some cover.

The two teens stood in the centre of the arena with baited breath. Whereas one was waving at the crowd and flashing winning smiles, the other was standing perfectly still, weapon drawn and ready, like a coiled spring ready to go.

Across from them, Gobber stood by the lever to the Gronckle's cage, awaiting the Chief's nod to release the beast. He looked for a moment at the two finalists, and knew before this even started who was going to win. But Gobber couldn't help but think that if he had allowed Hiccup to continue, and he'd mercifully not been burnt to a crisp, he would certainly have given Astrid a run for her money. Ah well, no need to dwell on what could have been. Right now, he had a job to do. At the Chief's nod, he pulled down the lever, and the Gronckle flew out.

Immediately, Astrid rolled away to the side and ran behind one of the bunkers. Snotlout, on the other hand, wanted to win this thing quickly, so he'd have more time to bask in the limelight. He swung his mace over his head, readying his attack. The Gronckle wasn't having any of that, and fired off a shot at the burly teen. The mace was blasted from the boy's hand, and his eyes widened in fear. He only had his shield, now. Snotlout turned, and ran towards one of the metal sheets, diving behind it. The Gronckle pursued him, and flew over the top of the bunker, readying a shot that would kill the teen. Snotlout, however, was ready. As the Gronckle flew up and over top of the sheet to where he was waiting, he swung his shield backhanded with all of his might, knocking the Gronckle off course where it's shot exploded harmlessly against the wall of the arena. With a silent cheer, he hopped back over the bunker and ran to another, picking up a spear as he went. The crowd cheered in approval, it was first blood to Snotlout.

Astrid was _pissed._ Snotlout, the idiot, had somehow managed to get the first hit in on the Gronckle, and that would not do. She was winning this. She looked out over the top of her bunker, and saw that the Gronckle had recovered from the blow, and was flying in a circle of the arena, searching for the two Vikings. Astrid tried to think of a way to attack the Gronckle without killing it, she wanted her first kill to be a Monstrous Nightmare, it was her destiny. Suddenly she was hit with an idea, and she crouched down, picking up 6 stones from the arena floor. Finished with her gathering, she looked back over the bunker and saw that, to her horror, a spear was sailing through the air towards the Gronckle. Snotlout was going to kill it! No! Without another moment's pause, she hurled one of the stones at the Gronckle, hitting it on the side. The spear was inches away from the Gronckle when it turned in surprise at the impact of a stone on its side, taking it just out of the path of the spear. "No!" Astrid heard Snotlout exclaim in anger, and so too did the Gronckle. It turned and immediately fired at the direction of the shout, causing Snotlout to jump out from behind his bunker as it was hit, falling apart. Astrid nodded happily, it was down to four shots.

Banking on the beast's anger, Astrid flung another rock at it, before crouching back down out of sight. She heard the Gronckle's angry growl, and knew she'd hit her mark. She had its attention now. Peeking out, she saw the Gronckle looking around wildly at where the rocks were coming from, and Astrid threw another rock across its field of vision, and the Gronckle fired at the annoying projectile. Good, three.

Astrid, distracted by watching the Gronckle, only noticed Snotlout jumping behind her bunker when he tapped her on the shoulder. She tore her gaze away from the Gronckle, and angrily eyed the boy. "What are you doing, Astrid?" Astrid smirked at the boy, before throwing another rock up into the air above them. "I'm winning." The Gronckle fired at the rock, blasting it apart. The dust fell down, directly onto Snotlout. He coughed, and waved his hand to clear the air. Astrid was nowhere to be seen.

He stood up fully, looking around the arena for the blonde. Astrid, from her position behind the next bunker, snorted. What an _idiot._ The Gronckle fired again at the male teen, who just raised his shield in time to take the blow. The blast hit the shield, and Snotlout was thrown backwards into the arena wall, his shield rolling away harmlessly. He was clearly unconscious.

Astrid knew she had this won, but the Gronckle still had one shot left. The dragon flew over to where Snotlout was lying, readying its final shot. Astrid slowly began creeping around until she was behind the beast.

The Gronckle stopped, and breathed in.

Astrid threw her axe forward, high above the Gronckle.

The Gronckle fired at Snotlout, having him dead to rights.

The shield descended from the air, taking the shot.

Astrid readied her axe, and charged. The Gronckle was all out of shots, and she had it. Before the beast could fully turn to her, she struck it across the face with the flat side of her axe, stunning it. She relentlessly continued her assault, hitting the Gronckle at different angles with all the force she could muster. Finally, with a final downward swing landing on the top of its head, the Gronckle dropped. It was out. She had won.

All around, the crowd cheered. Astrid calmly dusted herself off, and strode to the centre of the arena, facing the Chief and Gothi. Gobber and two other men ran into the arena, where the two men dragged the battered dragon back into its pen, and Gobber carried the battered Snotlout out of the arena. He wouldn't be needed for this.

The Chief stood from his throne, motioning with his hands for the crowd to quieten. "Hush! The elder has decided." Gothi pointed with her walking stick at Astrid, nodding her head. The crowd cheered again, and Astrid nearly sagged in relief. She'd done it!

The Chief clapped his hands and bellowed "Astrid is the winner!."

Astrid bowed to the crowd, who were hailing their champion.

Nobody noticed the Chief sit back down in his chair and quietly repeat his words to himself.

"Astrid is the winner."

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After the final exam, Gobber made his rounds of the village, informing the village that the Chief had demanded they all meet in the Mead Hall. He understood that Spitelout wasn't there to help him, his son needed him now. Once everyone had been informed and had begun to make their way over to the hall, Gobber returned to the forge where he had stowed the hammer. He grabbed it and headed up to the Mead Hall.

Arriving, he saw everyone had arrived, sitting at the tables. Gobber's eyes moved to Stoick who had at his usual table. Spitelout and Snotlout sat to his right, nothing out of place there, but on the Chief's left side, where Hiccup usually sat during gatherings such as this, was Astrid Hofferson. The Chief must be throwing a congratulatory party for young Astrid, that's why they were there. On the other side of the table sat the girl's parents, Henrik and Helga. Gobber made his way over to the table, where Stoick motioned for him to sit in the seat next to Henrik. Gobber, however, marched straight up to the Chief, and placed the hammer down on the table before him. "You forgot to look at this. _Your son_ made it for you with his own two hands, and you haven't even-" Stoick stood up, and pointed to the seat next to Henrik. "Not now, Gobber. Sit down." He clapped his giant hands once, instantly silencing the room. "I have an announcement to make."

Gobber sat where he'd been told to, wondering where Hiccup was. There wasn't any room at the table for him now. Gobber looked at the doors as they opened slightly, and saw the confused face of his apprentice as he entered the room.

Gobber had a bad feeling about this.

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Hiccup walked silently back into the village. It was dark, and no one was out. He'd spent the rest of the day in the forest, wanting to be left alone. He felt ashamed of himself. Not only had he failed in keeping his promise to his father, he hadn't even had the bravery to watch his father's reaction to the weapon he'd given him. His dad had already told him he wasn't a viking, he hadn't wanted to hear anything more.

Hiccup walked up the hill towards his home, not really noticing how quiet the village was. He reached the door, and looked into the dark and gloomy house. His father wasn't home. Great. He debated with himself whether to take himself off to bed, stalling the confrontation between father and son until the morning, or going and getting something to eat. His stomach ended the debate with a loud growl, and Hiccup wearily closed the door and made his way to the Mead Hall.

Reaching the doors, he made his way inside and stopped at the sight before him. The entire village was here, from newborn babies to the elder herself. Huh, there must have been a village meeting he hadn't heard about. The room had gone quiet, and the occupants had all turned to look at him as he entered the room. He looked around until he saw his father's massive frame. It wasn't hard really, he was the only one standing. He looked like he was about to say something, so Hiccup began to make his way over to the table. He stopped suddenly when he saw that, sitting in his seat, was Astrid Hofferson. There were no more seats at the table, and his father was looking at him impatiently, so Hiccup quickly went to the corner of the room and sat at the only table with a spare seat. The only other occupant was Mildew, who leered at the boy. What was going on?

Satisfied that there would be no more interruptions, Stoick continued his speech "Hello, everyone. Today is a day of great importance. Not only is it the day that we crowned yet another champion, Astrid Hofferson, to face down a Monstrous Nightmare and receive the glory of killing the beast-" The crowd all cheered, and Astrid sat up a little straighter, lifting her chin up "-today is also the day that I will announce my heir!". The whole room quietened as Stoick's words sank in, before they began murmuring their thoughts to their neighbours, scornful looks being cast towards Hiccup. Hiccup sat wide eyed, not believing what he was couldn't believe it, his father had been so angry before, and now he was announcing him as his heir? This was much too early, he was only fifteen! There was usually at least another year until-wait, was that the hammer? Yes, there it was, right in front of his father. That must be it! The Chief was so impressed with it, he'd forgiven his son, and had seen that there was some worth in him after all. His father was so thankful, and so proud, that he felt it was time to announce Hiccup as his heir.

Stoick called for quiet and continued "Yes, it's become clear to me that there is someone who is more than ready to take up the heir's mantle, and one day will take over from me as Chief!". Hiccup beamed, his father thought he was ready!

"This person is talented, smart, brave, honest and hard working-" Hiccup nodded, whilst the rest of the village seemed on the verge of mutiny "-and is a credit to the village. I have no doubt that the respect you all have for this person will help them along, and if any problems come up, that axe will certainly help!" Stoick laughed at his own joke, and gasps were heard all around the room. Hiccup was confused, he didn't have an axe-wait, NO! This couldn't be happening, his father couldn't do this to him!

"I'm sure you all know who I'm talking about here. Today's final examination wasn't just a competition to win the honour of killing the Monstrous Nightmare, the two combatants were also, unbeknown to them, competing for the honour of becoming Berk's heir!" The noise in the room began to rise, as everyone began to realise where this was going.

Hiccup began hyperventilating, eyes wide.

Mildew cackled.

"No one deserves this more, and it gives me great joy to introduce to you the heir to Berk-"

Hiccup held his head in his hands, unable to watch. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening, this-

"-ASTRID HOFFERSON!". Astrid rose to her feet, standing next to the Chief as the villagers all rose to their feet and cheered.

Hiccup raised his head and stared at the Chief, Astrid standing proudly by his side.

This was it.

His life was over.

It was only then that Hiccup noticed that the hammer was still wrapped in the cloth, clearly never having been seen.

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 **A/N: Y'all hate Astrid yet? What will Hiccup do now? Find out in the next chapter, which I promise will be soon. Please don't hate me, and please follow, favourite and review.**

 **See you soon.**


	5. Aftermath

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **My favourite HTTYD character is...**

 **Not one of you guessed it, so I must be doing something right. I'll delay the answer until the next chapter, as it should hopefully become clearer after you've read this. Please leave your answers in the reviews.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon.**

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Spitelout stood faster than expected for a man of his size, and brought his strong fist down upon the wooden table with a bang and a roar of fury. Yet his anger was unnoticed in the din the Mead Hall had become. His gaze burned into the side of Stoick's face, willing, _daring_ the fool to look him in the eyes. And as skilled, as brave, as mighty as Stoick the Vast undoubtedly was, even he would tremble in fear at the look of sheer rage, and the hint of blood-lust, that could be found upon Spitelout's face.

But no, their illustrious Chief didn't even notice the murderous glare of his second-in-command, too busy showing off his new heir to the village, stating "how proud" he was of the chit, how "great things" lay in Berk's future. Bah! That girl wouldn't be half the leader his nephew would have been, should have been, if his sorry excuse for a father hadn't dealt him the biggest insult imaginable.

Spitelout gave up on his once-sided staring contest, and instead looked to his own son. Spitelout's fury was born out of the love he held for his dear nephew, and how this announcement would have hurt him, but Spitelout knew that his Snotlout would be feeling the effects in his own way. He knew his boy had long held aspirations of Chiefhood himself, no matter how often Spitelout tried to steer him away from such whimsical notions, but no matter how he tried, his son had convinced himself that _he_ would be heir to Berk, not his scrawny cousin. And for a small, fleeting moment, when Stoick had begun his announcement, and it became clear he was certainly not describing his own son, Spitelout had begun to wonder. But no, it seemed that becoming the future Chief was not the path that the Norns had chosen for either of the teens that Spitelout held close to his heart.

Snotlout was still sat at the Chief's table, and Spitelout swore that his boy hadn't moved an inch since the announcement. The shock was visible in every contour of his son's face, and as he met his eyes, the dawning realisation that everything he had ever dreamed of was gone, just like that, and to Spitelout's horror, fear began to creep into his boy's blue eyes. Fear, it seemed, of _him._

"D-Dad? I-I'm sorry. I didn't know, I swear! I didn't know that we were c-competing to become the heir! Please, Dad, please, you have to u-understand?" Spitelout hadn't heard such vulnerability in his son's voice for a very long time. Despite being fifteen years of age, right now his son seemed like the same scared six-year-old he'd once been, spooked out of his wits at being caught out after bedtime with his father's sword. Unlike many other parents in their tribe, Spitelout didn't admonish his son, poke fun at his un-Vikingly display of weakness. Instead, he wrapped a beefy arm around his boy, and held him close, so Snotlout's head was resting just above his heart. Such an action had always calmed and comforted his son in his younger days, and Spitelout knew it was this same gesture of affection and love that his son needed now.

"Stop that, Snotlout. You have nothing, _nothing,_ to apologise for. I am proud, more proud than I can say, of your performance today. You are a Jorgensen through and through, son."

Snotlout looked up at him then, relief ghosting across his strong features, before being replaced by confusion. "But, Dad, don't you want me to become Chief? I-I thought it would make you happy if the Chief picked me, one day." Spitelout sighed, wondering how to voice his feelings in a way his son would understand.

"Son, I'm proud of you no matter what you do in life, whether you become the greatest warrior Berk has ever seen, or live out the humble life of a farmer. But, no, Snotlout, I never wanted you to become the heir. Do you know why?"

His son titled his head slightly in confusion, and Spitelout chuckled slightly before continuing "It was because of Hiccup. I know you aren't fond of your cousin, and I can see why, he's not like everyone else, is he?"

Snotlout shook his head, and Spitelout continued "Son, it's _because_ of how he is different that I wanted him to become the heir, like he was supposed to be. He thinks in ways nobody else can, his ideas, though the execution leaves much to be desired, are fantastic! They could have changed the way we live in unimaginable ways, made everyone's lives easier. And you, Snotlout, were to be his second-in-command, just like I am for Stoick, to be there at Hiccup's side always, protecting him, offering him sound advice and a ready sword. But, now what do you think will become of Hiccup?"

His son stared up at him earnestly, wanting to know what his father predicted for his cousin's future.

"He will become an outcast of sorts, on the periphery of the village, unwanted and unheeded. Without his status as heir, do you think anyone will listen to his ideas, his opinions, no matter how great? No, they will ignore him, belittle him, just as they always have, but now, now it will be much, _much_ worse. If he tries, as he has before, to prove himself with his inventions, and they go wrong and cause damage to the village, it won't just be comments of how "useless" he is"-at this, Spitelout gazed sternly at his son, who had the good grace to bow his head in shame-"he'll be, at best, humiliated and shamed, but at worst? He'll be attacked, beaten down, and who will be there for him, eh? I know I will, because he is my nephew, and I love him dearly, and Gobber will, because he loves him too, but when we are gone? When the time comes for the next generation to take over, who will be there for him?".

Spitelout stopped, taking in the expression on his son's face. To his joy, Snotlout was seemingly deep in thought, reflecting upon Spitelout's words, and what they meant, both for him and for his cousin. He knew his son and his nephew didn't get along, but Spitelout hoped that his words had sparked that deeply-hidden familial love that he knew Snotlout still held, and that he would recognise that how he was feeling, after hearing that another, not he, would become Berk's heir, would be magnified tenfold for Hiccup.

Seeming to come to a decision, Snotlout locked his gaze with his father's and spoke in a steely voice.

" _I_ will. He...isn't that bad. Some of his inventions actually looked pretty cool, and the twins always did love the destruction he caused. But Dad, I promise that I will look out for him, no matter what. He is _my_ cousin, and I'll make sure nobody hurts him like this again."

Spitelout felt such pride in heart, it threatened to burst out of his chest. But, there was just one more point he needed to drive home to his boy.

"Nobody, Snotlout? Not even you, perhaps? Some of those bruises that young Hiccup sported from time to time looked awfully like they'd been caused by _your_ hands."

Snotlout shook his head violently, and vehemently spoke _those words_ , words that had been passed down from Jorgensen to Jorgensen since Berk itself was founded, and Spitelout worried that his heart would, in fact, burst from his chest and ruin this momentous moment between father and son.

"On my honour as a Viking, as a man, and as a Jorgensen, I swear that I, Snotlout, will protect Hiccup Horrendous Haddock with my life."

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Gobber sat at the table, shocked to his very core. Never, never would he have believed that his life-long friend, his brother-in-arms, would do _this._ It was unheard of. Never before, in the recorded history of the Archipelago had a Chief chosen another over their own child. And now Stoick had dealt the worst hand imaginable to his own son, his Hiccup.

And Gobber had been there, right from the start. He'd been waiting outside Gothi's hut, with Stoick, whilst little Hiccup came wailing into the world. He'd been there when Stoick would carry his little bundle of joy around the village, showing him off to the villagers, proudly proclaiming how his son would be "the greatest Viking of them all". He'd been there that dreadful day when Valka was taken from them forever. He'd taken Hiccup, then, kept him with him at his home as Stoick poured his heart out in grief, unable to cope with looking after his son alone. He'd been there as Hiccup grew, and Stoick struggled to deal with his uber-intelligent son without Valka there to temper his harsher, less-forgiving nature. He'd been there, that first day that Stoick had dropped Hiccup off at the forge, ordering Gobber to apprentice the boy, teach him some useful skills. He'd been there for Hiccup's first burn, first severe cut, first success as an apprentice blacksmith. He'd been there for all of the failures, all of the public dressing-downs, all of the taunts.

And now he was here for this, the great climax to the sorry story of Stoick and Hiccup's story as father and son. Because, Gobber knew, this was it. There was absolutely no way that Hiccup could go back home, continue living with Stoick as a family when he'd been overlooked, cast aside as his heir whilst Stoick trained another in his place. And Stoick would have even less inclination to spend time with his son, now that he knew he didn't need to prepare him for leadership.

No. Hiccup would need somewhere else to go now, and Gobber knew what he needed to do.

The old blacksmith rose from the table, ignored and unnoticed by the merry crowd who were still congratulating young Astrid, and praising Stoick for his good decision, and with a disgusted shake of his head at his now former friend, he strode from the hall without a second glance.

Gobber made his way over to the forge and lit the lamps and torches before settling down at his desk, a piece of charcoal and some paper at the ready. His house was small and homely, but there was space enough for a small boy like Hiccup. He'd need a bed, of course, and a wardrobe for his clothing. Oh, not to mention a desk, because Odin knew that the boy loved to draw. A chair for the desk, and maybe a small rack for his weapons. Yes, that would do.

Gobber spent the night drawing out his designs for the furniture the boy would need, before heading into the back room of the forge. He had a stockpile of wood here, in case it was ever needed. Gobber, despite his trade as a blacksmith, was also an accomplished carpenter and knew his way around a woodworking project. And boy, did he have a lot of work to do tonight if it was going to be ready for his Hiccup.

No matter what Stoick had done, the damage he'd caused, Gobber would be there, again, to help. He already saw the boy as his own, and now he could give the lad a warm bed and few small comforts, if not a happy home.

It didn't matter what had happened to Hiccup, or what the coming months and years would bring.

Gobber would be there.

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Silence.

Despite the enthusiastic cheering, the loud proclamations of relief, the constant, out-of-tune "ASTRID, ASTRID, ASTRID" chants, nothing could penetrate the haze of shock that had fallen over Hiccup Horrendous Haddock.

His vision was centred solely on his father-no, the Chief-and Hiccup just stared at the huge, laughing Viking who had taken everything away from him. He was his _fath_ _er_ , someone who was supposed to teach him, love him, protect him from all harm. And yet, the man tasked with providing this for Hiccup had struck him with the most painful blow imaginable. He'd always known, in the dark recesses of his mind, that his father was disappointed in him, both for his scrawny size and the different way he did things. But he'd _tried._ He'd tried to be what his father wanted him to be, what he expected of him. And damn it, it had started to reap rewards! But, his failure in Dragon Training had been the last straw it seemed.

What was to become of him now? He couldn't go back home, that much he knew. It wasn't his home anymore. Would Astrid move into his bedroom, living with his father, becoming the child, and heir, that he'd always wanted but never had thanks to Hiccup's presence? Yes, that was the most likely outcome to this mess.

A large shape moved across his line of vision, blocking Hiccup's view of the Chief, allowing him to snap his staring spell. He recognised the shape, and his hazy mind identified Gobber as the one who'd stood and walked past the Chief. Hiccup watched the blacksmith walk towards the doorway purposefully, not even glancing at Hiccup.

The blow of being snubbed by his mentor snapped Hiccup fully out of his daze, and he was suddenly aware of everything and everyone around him. The noise was astounding, he'd never heard the village cheer like this, and as he paid attention to the cheers, it was clear that they were cheering just as much for Astrid being named the heir as much as they were cheering that he, Hiccup, _hadn't._

Hiccup looked across the table, where Mildew still sat. The old goat-lover was looking at him with an indiscernible expression in his yellowed eyes. Hiccup matched his gaze, mentally preparing himself for the almost-certain cackles and jeers, but Mildew just stared at him. Without a word, the old man stood from the table and began to make his way out of the hall.

He was now so unimportant, so beneath notice, that even _Mildew_ didn't care enough to laugh at his misfortune. Gobber was gone, to where Hiccup didn't know, and Spitelout was sitting with his son, seemingly deep in conversation. The Chief obviously didn't care about him a jot.

Hiccup began to look around the room, trying desperately to catch the attention of _someone,_ just to disprove his own fears that he was nothing.

He finally caught the eyes of someone, and his heart stopped for a beat.

He had looked straight into the eyes of Astrid Hofferson.

And suddenly, he was angry. Gone was the calm acceptance, gone were _ridiculous_ notions of freedom. Instead, Hiccup felt a rage he'd never imagined possible. And it was all caused by her.

So much of his life, his thoughts had been on her. Ever since they were small, when they were the best of friends, and he'd always think about what he and Astrid could do that day, and what they'd do tomorrow, and the day after that, and that, and that. And then, when they were older and drifted apart, he would think on how he could regain her attention and friendship, and how he missed her so. And then, as they got even older, his thoughts turned decisively more intense. He thought of her beauty, and her intelligence, and her bravery, and how amazing she was, and how lucky he'd be if, for even a moment, he could have her attention, and, if he was somehow blessed by the Gods, her love.

But now? Now, Hiccup had never felt hatred for one person as much as he felt it for Astrid Hofferson. Wasn't it enough that she'd reacted with such disgust, such disdain towards the idea of marrying him? Wasn't it enough that she'd gotten him thrown out of Dragon Training? Wasn't it enough that she'd won the whole damned thing when _he'd_ been winning until she messed it all up? Hiccup wasn't under any foolish belief that it had been accidental, Astrid was too smart, too calculating to make mistakes. No, she must have recognised that he was a rival, a threat to her dominance, and she used Gobber's protectiveness over him to put him in danger and get him thrown out.

And now, to top it all off, she'd taken his birthright from him. Astrid and _Stoick_ had together taken away the only thing he'd had left. No matter how useless, how clumsy, how un-Vikingly he was, he had still been the heir, the one who would one day take over the village, and Hiccup had always imagined that once that day came, and people _had_ to listen to his ideas and what he had to say, that things would get better for him, that they'd all see what he'd been trying to prove to them, that he wasn't just a hiccup. But no longer, that part of his life was gone forever, and Hiccup truly had no idea what was left for him now.

Astrid, despite the attention of her _adoring fans,_ was still staring at him. Her expression was clear, but there was something lurking in her eyes that Hiccup didn't care to decipher.

Well, he'd give her something to stare at.

Standing, he strode over to the girl, deftly avoiding the larger Vikings all around him, and as he approached the girl, the room began to quieten. As he came to a stop a few metres in front of the blonde girl, every eye in the room was once more upon the former heir.

Astrid looked like she was going to say something, had even opened her mouth, but Hiccup never gave her the chance. He tore off the green tunic, the special garment that symbolised his status, and threw it onto the table in front of the girl. It landed on top of the hammer, and Hiccup gave the weapon a single, uncaring glance before he returned his attention to the girl.

"I won't be needing this anymore. _Congratulations,_ Astrid." He sneered at the shocked blonde, before turning on his heel and walking calmly from the room, ignoring the shout from the Chief and the stunned looks from the villagers.

He left the hall, and looked around the village, and suddenly, a question he'd never thought he'd need to answer sprung into the forefront of his mind.

Where was he going to live?

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Astrid had been confused when she had yet again come home to find the Chief sitting at the table with her parents, but the absence of Hiccup eased her mind slightly. When her father had informed her that the Chief had requested that their family sit with him at the Mead Hall during the announcement, she'd felt pride.

It wasn't every day that the Chief gave you a place of honour, after all.

As she sat in her seat, right next to the Chief himself, and observed all of the village bustling into the Mead Hall, she'd felt unsure. It had dawned on her that, okay, she'd used some underhanded tactics to take Snotlout out of the equation during the final, and perhaps this announcement would not end well for her. The Chief might announce that she'd cheated and that Snotlout was the true victor, and she was here to be shamed in front of the entire village.

So when the Chief announced that Astrid was to become his heir, she'd been as shocked as anyone else. Absently, she noted the cheers and chants of the village, and as she was pulled to her feet by the Chief, stood by his side and basking in the joy of the village, she felt delighted. All of her life, she'd worked hard to be noticed, to be acknowledged as a great warrior, as a credit to her family, and now she'd been rewarded for all those long days honing her skills, those times when she'd begged off lazing around with the others and instead helping out around the village, learning from the older Vikings how to build homes, how to hunt for food, to work on the fishing ships, to make herself as useful as possible to her tribe.

And now, she was going to be the future Chief. Nothing could ruin her happiness.

Well, the little titbit from the Chief that she'd have to move into the Chief's home, away from her parents, was a little hard to take, but she understood that as the heir, she'd need to live with the Chief, so she could learn from him at all times of the day. Still, the worry and sadness in her parent's eyes caused by this news was hard to take. But still, Astrid was happy, and she graciously thanked her well-wishers and played her part as the perfect new heir flawlessly.

But then, during a rare moment between hand-shaking and mead-drinking, she looked around the room and caught _his_ eyes.

Hiccup.

And then, though she never thought it would happen, she felt despair. Not for herself, but for the little boy she remembered as her best friend, who she spent every day playing with, who she shared her deepest secrets with, who she first learned to read and write from. And right now, as she saw the anger in the eyes of the teenager that boy had become, she felt despair that she, in her own way, had caused it. It felt unnatural for gentle Hiccup, who almost literally couldn't hurt a fly, to look so... _dangerous,_ and it struck the girl that, if nothing else, Hiccup had inherited Stoick's angry gaze that rooted you to the spot in fear.

And it was fear Astrid felt when Hiccup began to walk towards her, expression unreadable except for the anger still blazing in his green eyes, and, even though she knew that if it came down to it, she could cut him into tiny little pieces before he could defend himself, Astrid couldn't move, couldn't look away until he was right there in front of her.

Before she knew what she was doing, she opened her mouth, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but before she could speak, Hiccup tore off his green tunic, leaving him in just his undershirt, and threw it onto the table before her. He gave a flippant comment, and then congratulated her in the most sarcastic way imaginable, before he walked out of the room, ignoring everyone.

As she stared at the discarded tunic, she noticed the hammer that had been abandoned on the table for most of the night. Pulling the heavy weapon closer, she felt shock at the beauty of the weapon, which was without a doubt a recreation of Mjölnir. As she reverently stroked the shaft of the hammer, her eyes happened upon the inscription that adorned the shaft.

Astrid read the words etched onto the beautiful weapon, and she knew instantly who had made it and who it had been made for.

Astrid didn't know what she felt, she just knew that the burning feeling in her heart and the hollow feeling in her gut was something she didn't like one bit.

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Stoick watched as the boy walked out of the room, and a small part of him was impressed with the hard-headed defiance he'd shown. After Hiccup had shut the door behind him, Stoick turned and let out a small laugh, before launching into a conversation with Henrik Hofferson.

An impromptu celebration had begun, and nearly every villager was there, laughing and singing songs of hope and pride.

Stoick stayed long into the night, holding court and downing great jugs of mead with all of them, showing the world his confidence in his decision. But inside, Stoick felt the raging inferno of grief that he had only felt once before, that awful night when his Valka was taken from him.

He grieved silently for the son he'd lost that day. Stoick was no fool, he knew that his decision, and the public announcement he'd made, had ended the father-son relationship between Hiccup and himself.

Stoick had researched the laws on announcing an heir intricately that day, and what he had found had shaken him to his core. It was permitted to announce an unrelated candidate as your heir, as long as there were no blood-relations in line. The only way that an unrelated candidate _could_ jump the line was if the blood-relations were disowned. Stoick would have to disown his own son, have nothing further to do with him, make him just another member of the tribe.

And as hard as that would be, Stoick would do it. For the good of Berk, he would deal with the grief over losing his son, and causing him pain, if it meant that when he was gone, Berk would be in the hands of a capable Chief, and prosper from his choice of heir. And it would, with Astrid at the helm Berk would continue to thrive, despite the thrice-damned devils that constantly raided them.

But it was all well and good acknowledging that severing the ties between father and son needed to happen, it was another thing watching his son discard the heir's tunic, a physical manifestation of Stoick's decision and the repercussions that would soon come.

As the celebration wound down, and all but a few mead-addled villagers were drunkenly singing a new song they'd written called "Ode to Astrid", Stoick announced his leave, citing an early rise for him and his heir, where they would need to begin her training in Chiefhood. As the large man began to walk away, he felt a tug on his arm, and he turned his attentions to his new heir.

Astrid, who should have left for her bed long ago, was there, holding out the hammer that Gobber had left on the table when he'd arrived (and that was another thing, where had Gobber gone?) and a stern look on her face.

"I think you should take this, Chief. It's yours."

Stoick, confused at her insistence, took the weapon from the girl.

"Thank you, Astrid. You may stay for a night longer with your parents, but tomorrow you must move your things into H-your new bedroom in my house, and begin your training."

He expected the understanding nod, and the determined look on her face, but he was not prepared for the sadness lingering in the girl's eyes, and before he could question her she'd walked past him and out of the door.

Shaking his head slightly, it seemed no matter what heir he had, they somehow managed to confuse him, Stoick made his own way home.

Arriving at the hallowed hall that had held Chief's of Berk since Vikings had first inhabited the island, Stoick lit a few torches, intending on some whittling whilst he sorted out his thoughts of the night.

Stoick sat in his favourite chair and gathered his whittling tools and a hunk of wood. Before he settled into an enjoyable early-morning session, he remembered with a start that he still held the hammer in his right hand. He laid the weapon out on his lap and unwrapped the cloth covering it.

Awe.

Rarely in his life had Stoick felt such amazement, such wonder, as he had at this moment. This was a weapon fit for a God, and his Hiccup had made this?! No, Stoick thought sadly, he's not my Hiccup anymore.

Softly, he turned the weapon over, inspecting every inch of the exquisitely-crafted weapon, and Stoick couldn't help but wonder how he'd never noticed how skilled Hiccup was as a blacksmith. What Stoick had intended as a way to get Hiccup out of the house but not make a nuisance of himself, had turned out to be the boy's calling in life. This was the work of a blacksmith with years of experience, not a small boy creating his very first weapon. And Stoick felt such gratitude that it had been for him that the boy had forged such a wondrous weapon. Stoick vowed that he'd use the hammer for the rest of his life, or until it was taken from him in battle, for such a weapon did not deserve a life on the shelf where it could gather dust.

It was then that the light from the torch illuminated the message carved into the shaft that Stoick's large fingers had grazed over without noticing.

He read the words lovingly inscribed there aloud to himself, his voice echoing into the otherwise empty house.

"To me, you are not just a warrior, not just a Chief, not just a father. To me, you are a God."

And Stoick the Vast, vaunted Chief of Berk, one of the most feared and respected men in the whole Archipelago held the incredible weapon he'd been gifted close to his body, and wept in heartfelt grief over the son he'd lost that day.

If Hiccup still saw him as a God after this day, he'd be Loki.

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 **Okay, there is the aftermath to Stoick's decision. What will become of Hiccup now he is all alone? Or is he as alone as he thinks?**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please don't be scared to tell me in the reviews where you think, or hope, this story is going, and what you think of it so far.**

 **Please follow, favourite and review, and tell all of your friends, too. Even that weird one who likes pineapple on pizza.**

 **Goodnight.**


	6. Lessons

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **My favourite HTTYD character is...**

 **Astrid!**

 **Nobody managed to guess correctly, so I must be doing a good job hiding it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon.**

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Hiccup stood, alone, at the base of the steep steps leading to the Mead Hall. The air around the boy was fairly mild for once, yet if there was anybody around to see the teen, they would see him shaking slightly.

Hiccup was scared.

As soon as his thoughts had turned to something simple, or what used to be simple, like going to bed, he'd been faced with the realization that _he didn't have a home anymore._ To Hiccup, it felt like a core component of his world had been torn away without warning. His home, his safe haven from the cruel world he existed in...gone. He could easily see the wooden beams, straw roof and grassy garden that was the Chief's House, but it wasn't _home_ anymore.

And Hiccup had no idea where his home was, now.

 _Thud Thud Thud_

Hiccup felt his knees weaken, and he slowly fell backward onto the bottom step. He held his head in his hands, rapidly assessing the choices he had available to him through his mind, weighing the positives and negatives of each.

 _Thud Thud Thud_

Would he have to live in the forest? Hiccup knew of a few caves close to the village that could be hospitable, but he had no means of warmth and safety from danger. There were large wolves, and the occasional wild dragon in the forest, after all. A backup-plan, at most. Someone take him in, if only until he gained the resources to build his own home? Hiccup doubted that. The majority of the village wouldn't bat an eyelid if he was being carried off by a dragon _before_ tonight, and Hiccup knew that was unlikely to change now. Gobber could, but Hiccup knew the man's home wasn't really big enough for two people to live in, and he didn't want to impose on the only friend he had left. Spitelout he knew would offer him sanctuary, but would how would Snotlout react to the news that his hated cousin would be living under the same roof as him? Badly, that's how.

 _Thud Thud Thud_

Would he have to leave Berk, for good? The other heirs were, Hiccup remembered, actually some of the only people who he could count as friends, despite the differences between Hiccup and them. He could take a boat, and try to sail for one of their islands. He knew Cami, and the Bog-Burglars, would allow him to stay for a time, but that tribe was populated only by females, and he knew he couldn't stay with them for long. Thuggory and the Meatheads, perhaps? Yes, that was a better destination...but no, Mogadon, the Chief of the Meathead Clan, and Thuggory's father, wasn't too fond of Hiccup. The man had often questioned Stoick during his numerous visits to Berk throughout Hiccup's lifetime why, exactly, Berk's Chief didn't follow the old ritual of casting a sickly newborn out on a boat to die. No, Hiccup thought with a shake of his head, it'd be suicide to seek refuge with Thuggory. That just left Dagur and the Berserkers. Dagur was, well, deranged, but he was a good friend to Hiccup, and always sought to protect his "little brother" whenever they were together. But Oswald the Agreeable, the Chief of the Berserkers, was a close friend of Stoick's, and would likely send Hiccup back to Berk in an attempt to help his friend's heir, and if he learnt that Hiccup wasn't the heir any longer, he would _drag_ him back to Berk for stealing a boat for himself.

 _Thud Thud "_ OWW!"

Hiccup's head shot up at the loud exclamation of pain, his head swiveling around trying to pinpoint the source of the shout. The village was bereft of life, every house was dark and quiet, only slightly illuminated with light from torches lining the streets. But no, there, up on the hill, was the forge, and Hiccup could now see the light coming from the building, contrasting with the total darkness around it.

Who was in there? There were no standing orders for weapons, so Hiccup doubted that Gobber would be there at this late hour. Rising to his feet, the former heir began to make his way over to the building, suspicion creeping into his bones. Could someone, the twins maybe, have broken in, trying to steal something precious? Or perhaps it was his fa-no, _Stoick,_ gathering up Hiccup's possessions, with plans to send the boy away for good. Yes, that was more likely.

A hint of steel entered the boy's eyes as he began to quicken his pace, determined to catch the man in the act.

He'd have a few choice words to say to the man he used to call father.

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Having quickly yet efficiently bandaged his, he was sure, broken thumb, Gobber began to once again piece together Hiccup's new desk. It was the only piece of furniture he had left to build, and, although the pain in his thumb was bothering him, he knew he only had to endure for at most another hour before he was finished, and he could venture out in search of his apprentice and take him home. He was really looking forward to the look of happiness on the boy's face and how-

"Gobber?!"

Gobber froze, hammer hovering in the air over a nail, and his head snapped to the side with an audible click. There, standing in the doorway, was Hiccup himself, shock written all over the boy's face.

"What on Midgard are you doing?"

Gobber slowly put down the hammer and began to rub the back of his neck nervously. When suddenly faced with it, he felt trepidation about actually telling the boy what he'd done for him, he might not even _want_ to live with him. But Gobber was a Viking, and quickly controlled his sudden bout of fear and stood tall and proud before his apprentice.

With a hooked hand, he gestured to the other side of the room, where the finished bed, wardrobe, weapons rack and a small chair were stacked against the wall. "Well, you see lad, it occurred to old Gobber that after what that _foolish_ man did-" Gobber slammed his fist down on his workbench in anger, valiantly ignoring the throbbing pain in his poor old thumb "-I figured that you'd be needing a place to stay and would be worrying your little head about it. Well, no need to fret, lad, because old Gobber has taken care of it. As you can see, I've built a few necessities for you, we'll need to shunt them over into my spare room, but between us it-"

Gobber's speech was cut off by a small projectile launching itself around his middle. With a sigh, he wrapped his hook-ended arm around the boy's body and used the other to pat him on the head, trying to give him comfort. Hiccup tried to speak, but his voice was muffled by Gobber's tunic. The old blacksmith chuckled. "Now, you don't need to say a thing, lad. I'll not be listening to anything about 'impositions' or 'burdens', you hear? I _want_ you to stay with me. You need a home, a safe place to be, and I will give you that home, if you'll let me?"

Hiccup pulled away slightly, raising his head to look his mentor in the eye " _Thank you,_ Gobber. Really. Of course I want to stay with you, I'll work here every day to pay for my keep-"

Gobber shook his head, suddenly stern. "Now now, we'll have none of that. You'll work as much as you want to, and make more weapons like that fantastic hammer-" At this, Hiccup's eyes darkened, and Gobber hastened to remove the hurt look that had taken over his apprentice's features "-or anything else you want to make, and when I sell them, you will get all of the money, except what it cost to pay for the materials, agreed?"

Hiccup stared up at the man in shock, touched at the sincerity in the man's words and the kindness he'd shown him. But he couldn't take that much pay! He began to shake his head, opening his mouth to argue the man down-

Until Gobber bodily lifted the boy and shook him up and down, making his head loll back and forth in a bastardisation of a nod.

The larger man chuckled and set the boy back down onto his feet "Glad you agree. Now, you go and start carrying some of that stuff home, you know where it is. The chair shouldn't be too difficult for you, you've gotten much stronger recently. Off with you now, I'll be finished with this soon and I'll help with the rest" The old blacksmith turned the boy until he was facing his new furniture, and gently ushered him towards the pile.

Hiccup, chair in hand, walked out of the door, and Gobber returned to his work.

Until the boy poked his head back through the doorway. "Gobber...thank you. Again. Just... _thank you._ "

Gobber just smiled at the lad and gave him a shooing gesture, to which the boy returned the smile and headed back off into the night.

Gobber didn't need to be thanked, he'd just been given the one thing he'd always hoped for since he was a young man, and had been denied by fate until now.

He had a son of his own now, and he wouldn't choose any other for all the wealth and fame the world had to offer.

He had _his_ Hiccup.

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Hiccup awoke to a pounding at the door to his new home. After the night he'd had, and after spending most of the early hours of the morning trekking back and forth from the forge carrying furniture, he'd been looking forward to a bit of a lie-in. It seemed it wasn't to be, however, as he heard Gobber's shout.

"Hiccup! There are some people here to see you! Get your scrawny backside down here."

Hiccup shot out of bed, frantically pulling on his clothes. Who could it be? Stoick, Astrid? Some nameless villager, coming to gloat over Hiccup's shame?

The boy raced down the stairs, skidding to a stop as his eyes took in the two figures sitting around the kitchen table with Gobber.

It was Spitelout and, to Hiccup's shock and confusion, Snotlout.

The three men all gave muted greetings to the boy before Gobber and Spitelout resumed the conversation Hiccup's arrival had interrupted. Snotlout gestured his cousin to sit in the free seat, where he could see a small plate of breakfast waiting for him. Silently, still in a state of confusion, Hiccup made his way over to the table and sat, staring at the two adult men, eyes demanding an explanation.

"Eat your breakfast, Hiccup." Gobber told the boy, eyes alight with amusement, before once again turning to speak to Spitelout, who had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The two men resumed their conversation, talking of inconsequential matters, jokingly ignoring the continued glare from the teen.

Once Hiccup began to audibly tap his foot on the floor impatiently, Snotlout broke and began to laugh, with Gobber and Spitelout joining him soon after. Hiccup's confusion only grew, and he loudly asked "Okay, what is going on? Why are you all laughing?"

Wiping a few tears of mirth from his eyes, Spitelout spoke. "Nothing, nothing, we were just having some fun with you, son. We all know how you can't stand not knowing what's happening." Spitelout chuckled to himself once more, before noticing his nephew's impatient look still lingered. Spitelout quickly pulled himself together, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

"Now, you do need to eat your breakfast, son. You've got a long day ahead of you. Today, Snotlout and I are going to take you into the forest and give you some weapon training, and I'd quite like to see how you're getting along with your bow, you have been practicing, haven't you?" At Hiccup's earnest nod, he continued. "I figured that we could show you how to use some other weapons, together, like a sword or an axe, what do you say?".

Hiccup didn't know what to think. He knew his uncle would never abandon him, but surely Snotlout wouldn't take part in such a plan? And it didn't look like the larger teen had been dragged here against his will, he'd been nodding along with his father's words and had an expectant look on his face for Hiccup's response.

With uncertainty, the boy answered his uncle "Uhh, sure, uncle, that sounds like fun. But I don't understand something, why-"

"Hiccup." All four heads turned towards the new voice, taking in the large form of the Chief standing in the open doorway.

Ignoring the enraged snarls emanating from the three larger occupants of the room, Stoick squeezed his way through the doorway into the room, eyes focused on the boy sitting at the table with a neutral expression.

"What is it, _Stoick?_ Oh, I know, you need me to remove my things from your house, right? Well, seen as _you_ bought them, they are yours to do with as you please. Keep them, sell them, burn them-"

"No! No. Well, yes, you do need to get your things and no, that's not why I came. I came here to apologise." Stoick spoke softly and spoke to the ground, unable to meet the boy's eyes. Unable to meet Valka's eyes.

"Look. At. Me." Stoick's head shot up, he'd never heard such fury in his son's-no, _Hiccup's,_ voice before. The boy had a look of barely-restrained fury and had stood from his seat, hands resting on the table before him as he leaned closer to the Chief of Berk. "How _dare_ you. How dare you come here, after what you've done, and try to apologise! No, Stoick, you do not get to apologise to me. As Chief, it was _your_ decision and _your_ right to name Astrid your heir, which you did so, in front of everybody, so don't you dare come here to me and try to apologise, because it's worthless! You aren't sorry, because if you could go back and change things, you wouldn't! And why should you be sorry? You have your perfect heir, now, don't you? No longer will you have to deal with 'Hiccup the Useless', shame to the great Stoick the Vast-" Hiccup had begun to pace the room, eyes never leaving the Chief.

To Stoick, the boy looked like a dragon in a cage, just waiting for the moment it was freed and could attack. "Hiccup, please, I am sorry, not for choosing Astrid, but for causing you pain-" The large man was cut off by Hiccup's wild roar of fury, and the boy looked like he was ready to physically attack Stoick, if not for Snotlout jumping to his feet and restraining his smaller cousin. Before Stoick could say anything more, Gobber had gotten to his feet and was glaring at him.

"Now you listen here, Stoick. You come here, into my home, into _Hiccup's_ home, after all you've done? Save your apologies, Stoick. You are making my boy angry, and that makes _me_ angry." At this, Gobber brandished his hook at the man threateningly, unafraid to take on the Chief of Berk in Hiccup's place.

Stoick, rather than listen to the man's words, grew angry at his threatening tone. He laid his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, growling out "Do not speak to me like that, Gobber. The boy is still a part of this tribe, and the last time I checked I was still Chief, so I will speak to him if I so desire. I'll ignore your insubordination due to our long years of friendship, but if you ever, _ever_ speak to me in that manner again, you _will_ regret it." With this, Stoick reached to his back, unhooking _the_ hammer from its holster, waiting for the other man's response. The temperature of the room seemed to drop, the tension between the two Vikings so thick Hiccup could almost taste it on the air.

Gobber calmly reached behind him with his good hand and retrieved an old broadsword from the wall behind him. He, too, rested the weapon in his hands and spoke with a steady voice to his former friend. "Don't you be forgetting, Stoick, who it was that won our go at Dragon Training all those years ago."

Hiccup's eyes widened, and he knew his cousin behind him had the same reaction if his loud gasp was anything to go by. Stoick hadn't won Dragon Training?!

Spitelout, too, rose to his feet, removing the axe holstered onto his back. "Or who kept you from a spot in the final."

What?! _He hadn't even gotten to the final!_ How dare he cast Hiccup aside, when he himself failed to perform. Hiccup his back to the men, looking past Snotlout to the wall behind them. If he looked at the Chief again, he wouldn't be able to contain his fury.

Stoick, for his part, seemed to visibly deflate, and he bashfully stowed away his hammer. He took a few moments to steady himself before speaking again, but the object of his words wasn't his former son. "Spitelout, I'll need you to take charge of the village. I will be training Astrid today, and-"

Spitelout quickly unarmed himself, before crossing his arms and glaring at the other man. "Save it, Stoick. I would have thought it would be clear to you that I would no longer serve as your second-in-command, or has your ignorance only grown recently?" Hiccup turned back around, staring at his uncle. He knew the man loved his duty, and was proud that he could serve his tribe by leading them in their Chief's absence, and he'd give it up for him?

Spitelout took in Stoick's shocked face and gestured towards the open door behind the man. "I'd suggest you go and speak to Henrik Hofferson, I'm sure he'd be happy to take charge. Keep it all within the family, yes?" Spitelout's tone turned lightly mocking, and he gave the Chief a winning smile.

Stoick, in complete disbelief of all he'd heard, could only nod in response. He turned, ready to leave the house, before chancing a look at the boy he'd come here for. Hiccup had his back turned on him, refusing to look at him.

And as Stoick once more forced his way through the doorway, he couldn't say he blamed the boy.

He just hoped that one day, Hiccup would forgive him.

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Hiccup stalked through the forest, simmering in anger, his bow and arrows strapped to his back. The three other men trailed behind him, each immersed in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, Hiccup came to a stop in a clearing, and instantly drew his bow and an arrow and aimed up into the canopy. The three men hurriedly made their way over, looking around for what Hiccup was aiming for. Snotlout saw a squirrel resting on a tree branch at the very edge of the clearing, on the last reach of his vision, and silently pointed it out to the two older men. Their eyes found the small creature, and the only warning they had was the whooshing sound of air being displaced, and the squirrel disappeared from the branch and soared through the air, skewered on the arrow Hiccup had fired. It began to descend from its unexpected journey, and fell out of view a hundred feet away from the men.

Spitelout, Gobber and Snotlout all turned to Hiccup, mouths open in astonishment.

Hiccup huffed out a breath and glared at the men. "I _have_ been practicing, you know."

Spitelout was the first to break out of his trance and gave a hearty laugh before walking over to his nephew and slapping him on the back in good cheer. "Excellent shot, son! Why, your mother couldn't have hit such a small target from so far away, and she was the best archer in the archipelago! I am so-Snotlout, go and find the squirrel-proud of you, Hiccup."

As Snotlout trotted off in search of the squirrel-on-a-stick, Hiccup gave a proud smile to his uncle. He didn't think he was _that_ good, he'd only practiced a few times. But he supposed his uncle was the best judge of his abilities and took the praise eagerly. He hadn't been given praise very often in his life, after all, so he lapped it up whenever it was received.

Spitelout took a step back and straightened up, features set in an expectant gaze. "Now, your aim is impeccable, but we need to work on your speed. It will be no good if you can't hit an approaching enemy because he was too quick for you. I'm going to throw targets into the air, those pieces of bark on the ground should do, and you will have three seconds to take aim and fire them out of the air, okay? Good! Now, get ready." Before Hiccup could fully process Spitelout's graduation from proud uncle to stern teacher, the man had crouched down and plucked a fairly large piece of bark from the ground. He rose quickly, turned, and threw the wood at shoulder height behind Hiccup.

"One."

Hiccup turned, withdrew an arrow and notched it.

"Two."

He frantically searched the air for the piece of wood and spotted it as it began to fall from the air. He quickly took aim and fired.

"Three."

The arrow flew through the air, quickly gaining on the fast-falling projectile.

"Four."

Hiccup's heart sank, even as the arrow pierced the piece of wood and carried on its trajectory for a further ten feet before hitting the ground with a dull thud. He turned to his uncle, expecting to see the disappointment in the man's eyes, the regret that he'd praised his useless nephew prematurely, but instead, the man had thrown another, smaller piece away and to his side, high into the air, and Hiccup acted.

"One."

Withdraw, notch, aim.

"Two."

Fire.

"Three."

The arrow hit its mark without question, before falling out of sight.

"That's more like it."

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Astrid sat in place at the table, awaiting the Chief's return to his-no, _their_ house. She'd woken up frighteningly early after an uncomfortable, short sleep, and had sat on the edge of Hiccup's bed for what felt like hours before she heard the Chief's call to come down. It felt... _wrong_ to be sleeping in Hiccup's bed, and she hated it. She missed her bed, in her room, in her house, and she felt like an intruder on someone else's life sleeping here.

The Chief had awoken, readied himself for the day and made his way downstairs all without Astrid noticing, too engrossed in her thoughts. At his call for her, she jerked to her feet and hurriedly dressed. Dressed in her usual attire, she flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, coming to a stop when she saw the Chief standing by the door.

He looked her up and down once, before shaking his head. Astrid felt panic race through her body, what had she done wrong?

"You need to wear the tunic, Astrid. Today, I'll be teaching you how to be a Chief's heir. You don't need training with a weapon, or battle tactics, true, but you need to be shown how to handle politics, within the tribe and with visiting clans. I just need to head out for an hour or two, so wait here and acclimatise yourself to your new home. I heard you shifting around all night, girl, but you need to get used to it."

Astrid nodded and made to speak, but the large man had already turned and left before she could.

So now here she was, waiting. He'd only been gone for twenty minutes or so, but already Astrid was bored. At home, her real home, her mother would right now be sewing, or cooking, busying herself around the house, always there for Astrid to talk to if she desired. Her father, if he was home, would be helping her mother, or tinkering around in the garden. But here, there was nothing but silence, pressing in on her from every angle. Gods, how had Hiccup put up with this all his life?

Ah, Hiccup. The boy had been the main focus of her troubled mind all night, and Astrid just couldn't figure out why.

She'd felt sorry for him last night, it was true, but only because of the _way_ it had been announced that Astrid was to become Berk's heir, not the act itself. She couldn't feel bad about that, because she was a better choice! She wouldn't flail and flounder like Hiccup undoubtedly would, she would thrive and with her success, Berk would rise as the most powerful, feared tribe in the archipelago!

Before she could continue with her train of thought, the door burst open and Stoick marched in, clearly angry and...upset? Astrid didn't know what to do. Should she ask him what was wrong, show her concern for her Chief? Or refrain, and wait for him to tell her the problem, and accept that if he didn't share it with her, she didn't need to know? She decided on the former, feeling that, now they had to live together, they needed to have a closer relationship.

She edged towards the shaking man, who was standing behind a small armchair near the fire, his hand resting on top of the backrest. "Chief?" No answer. "Stoick?" His gaze shifted slowly toward her, and a look she couldn't recognise ghosted across his features, before being replaced by a neutral gaze. "What is it, Astrid?" the large man queried wearily.

Astrid faltered for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Okay, she'd gotten his attention, but _how_ do you ask someone you barely know, and is the Chief of your tribe no less, what is bothering them? What if it was something personal? None of her training had prepared her for this! Still, Astrid gathered herself and, like a typical Viking, charged forwards quickly and without thinking.

"IwasjustwonderingwhatwaswrongbecauseyoulookupsetandIwantedtoknowwhy?" She hurried out without a breath, to be met by a blank look from Stoick. She tried again, quietly and nervously. "I-I just wondered what was wrong, because, well, you came in looking really angry and u-upset?"

The man sighed, and walked around the armchair toward the larger one across from it. Tiredly, he dropped into the seat and motioned for Astrid to perch herself onto its smaller counterpart. Once she was seated, the man spoke. "I-I went out to find Hiccup. I needed to tell him...I needed to tell him I was sorry. It's hard to say what I was sorry for, because I made the right decision choosing you as my heir-" At this, the man gave Astrid a small smile, which she returned shyly. "-but that I hadn't told him before I announced it. He didn't deserve that. And, well, I've had to disown him-" Astrid gasped, unable to hide her shock, and the Chief nodded his head, understanding her thoughts. "-but I just wanted to tell him I still love him, even if I can no longer show it, and that he was still welcome in this tribe for as long as I am Chief...but it didn't go very well."

Astrid nodded in understanding and spoke in what she hoped was a consoling voice. "It's okay Chief, I understand. He cried, and got all worked up and "Hiccupy", but you tried your best, and it can't be helped-".

Stoick laughed bitterly and mirthlessly. "No, actually, he was angry. Very angry, indeed. It was quite something, I must say. And he had every right to be, as did Spitelout and Gobber-".

"Wait, Spitelout and Gobber? Why were they there?". Astrid asked, confusion evident in her voice and expression.

"Sorry, I didn't say, Hiccup appears to have moved in with Gobber. Anyway, they were both there, along with young Snotlout, and...let's just say that neither of them are very happy with me. In fact, they threatened me and Spitelout even told me to find a new second-in-command!" Stoick massaged his forehead with a beefy hand, the day had barely started and already he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed.

Astrid was indignant. "How dare they! You are the Chief, Stoick. They shouldn't question your decisions! Why, if they'd done that to _me,_ they'd have met the business end of my axe!"

Stoick removed his hand and looked over at the girl carefully. He spoke slowly, trying to ensure his words were listened to. "Astrid, if you were to do that, you would be a fool."

Astrid's fury disappeared as quickly as it materialised, replaced by anxiousness and fear. What? Why was that the wrong thing to do?

Stoick spoke once more, and Astrid listened to his explanation with worry. "If you were to kill them for threatening you, or disagreeing with you, you would have deprived Berk of not only its blacksmith but one of our greatest warriors. As Chief, your actions and your choices have _consequences,_ Astrid. I will admit, now, that I reacted much the same as you, with anger. But I was able to reign it back and regain my sense of clarity. You will find that, sometimes, the village might not agree with all of your decisions, especially Mildew, but as long as they respect that what you are saying, or doing, is for the good of the tribe, they will obey you. If, however, you react with anger and violence to their unhappiness, you risk a mutiny. If your tribe rallies against you because they don't respect you, you will be a failure."

Astrid sat rigidly in her seat, gaping in shock at the older man. He was right. He was absolutely right, she _would_ be a failure as a Chief if she reacted like that. But...that's the only way she knew how to react to anyone questioning her authority. She smacked Snotlout and the twins all the time when they would snark at her, and she thought that was how you kept people in line.

She met the Chief's green eyes and spoke quietly and with deference. "Sorry, Chief. Clearly, I have much more to learn." Stoick's eyes had yet another undiscernable expression swimming in their depths, and Astrid was beginning to hate not knowing what he thought of her.

All the man did was nod once, before beginning to stroke his large beard in thought. Eventually, he looked back at the suddenly timid Astrid, and spoke soothingly. "It's no matter, Astrid. I will just need to teach you the alternatives, and which one to choose at which time. You'll get it, I know you will." He smiled reassuringly at the girl, who immediately perked up. Astrid was going to make a fine Chief, he just knew it.

"Now, say that during a clan meeting, one of the other heirs insults you and says something like...I don't know, that they'll declare war on Berk one day. What would you do?" The man leaned forward, steepling his fingers, expectant for her correct response.

Astrid racked her brain but was unable to find the correct, or what she thought was the correct, response and simply closed her eyes, sighed resignedly and pointed towards her axe, which she had laid onto the table the night before.

Stoick's eye twitched, and he began to lightly massage his temples.

Odin, it was going to be a long day.

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 **Poor Stoick, could his decision be coming back to bite him? Or will Astrid rise to the challenge, and learn how to use her brain instead of her brawn?**

 **And will Hiccup continue with his progress, growing in skill and forging a new life for himself?**

 **And could we see a certain Night Fury in the near future?**

 **Tell me in the comments where you think the story is going, and what you think so far.**

 **Stay tuned, this story is only just beginning. Please follow, favourite and review.**

 **Auf Wiedersehen.**


	7. The Raid

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **I apologise for the longer period between updates, I'll try to improve this in the future.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon.**

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The four men walked leisurely back towards their village, laughing and joking along the way. Hiccup had never felt more accepted and comfortable than he had today, all thanks to the efforts of his uncle, the man who was a better father to him than the cruel, callous father the God's had saddled him with, and, to his continued disbelief and amazement, his cousin.

The ties of friendship and togetherness between the four men had been strengthened, and in the case of Hiccup and Snotlout, it was clear to the two older, wiser men that the foundations of a strong bond of brotherhood had been formed, finally, between the two cousins.

After drilling Hiccup for nearly two hours, improving his speed and technique with his beloved bow, Snotlout had been drafted in by Teacher Spitelout to spar with his scrawnier cousin, with strict whispered warnings from his father not to go _too_ hard on the former heir. It was a surprise, even to Spitelout who had been privy to his son's vow of protection, that the larger boy took to his role with aplomb, never trying to show off or beat Hiccup into submission, merely keeping pace with the boy and offering words of encouragement and advice. Spitelout had never been prouder of his boy.

For Hiccup, the day had been one of the very best in his short life to date. It was a fact that, after just one afternoon of hard work and dedication, he'd nearly tripled his skills with a sword, capable of actually handling the weapon without being a risk to those around him as well as himself. Why, if he were to be pitted against his younger self of only a day ago, it wouldn't even be a contest! He wasn't falling into the trap of over-confidence and arrogance (he wasn't _Astrid,_ after all), he knew that compared to literally everyone else in the village including, to his shame, children much younger than himself he was a complete novice, he had never felt as much a Viking as he did at this very moment.

He'd wanted to carry on long into the night, but Gobber had quickly stepped in with orders for his young charge to feed himself and rest, lecturing the boy that it was no use making such progress today if he were too tired tomorrow to carry it on. After a few minutes protest, Hiccup had relented to his guardians' sage advice, helped along of course by the incessant rumblings in his stomach that raised chuckles from the other men due to its sheer volume.

"Well lad, with all the hard work you've done today, it's no wonder you've built up an appetite! Maybe you might finally eat a proper Viking's portion, eh?" Gobber teased his apprentice, snorting at the boy's uncustomary silence, figuring the boy's lack of response was down to simple weariness. Spitelout, however, looked closely at his nephew, and it didn't take him long to figure out the reason for Hiccup's detachment, if the light frown and constant quick glances towards Snotlout were any clue. The Viking surreptitiously tapped his son on the shoulder and nodded towards the smaller boy, who had by now fallen behind the group, so engrossed in his thoughts was he. With an understanding nod, Snotlout dropped his pace, falling into step with his younger cousin, who had yet to notice his fellow straggler. Once the minute mark had passed, the burly teen cleared his throat, causing Hiccup's head to snap towards him.

"You did brilliantly today, Hiccup! At this rate, you'll be beating me in no time at all." Snotlout clapped the bony boy on the back, nearly causing him to keel over until Snotlout's hand shot out to steady him. He smiled apologetically at his cousin, who stared at him with confusion "Erm, thanks? I guess...". Hiccup trailed off and really _looked_ at his, until today, antagonistic cousin who had suddenly turned into, well, a friend. There was none of the deceit or cunningness in Snotlout's face that were common whenever the other boy was trying to harass him, his face was open and honest, which left Hiccup more perplexed than ever.

All his life, Snotlout had been his biggest detractor and cause of dejection in his life, along with the Chief, yet after the worst moment of Hiccup's life here Snotlout was supporting and helping him? He just didn't understand, the Snotlout he'd grown up with would never have given up such a prime opportunity to ridicule and humiliate his younger cousin. But Hiccup was forced to accept that he'd never be able to wrap his head around this sudden change of attitude without actually _asking_ the other boy. Mustering up all the courage he had, Hiccup turned towards his childhood bully, ready to confront him.

"Uhm, Snotlout? Not that I'm not grateful or anything, b-because I _am,_ but...I don't understand? Why..." Hiccup, despite his resolve, just couldn't find the words to ask Snotlout just why he'd changed, why he wasn't being awful to him anymore, because how do you ask someone that? What if he asked him, and Snotlout got angry and reverted to his old ways? Hiccup rather liked having his cousin on his side, he'd never really noticed before how much his rejection had hurt him.

To his credit, Snotlout seemed to get the gist of Hiccup's stumbling attempt at investigating, and nodded sadly to himself. Rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment and shame, the teen sighed to himself before trying to explain himself to his cousin. This was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but he owed it to Hiccup to explain himself and to apologise.

"Hiccup, I-"

But Snotlout's answer was drowned out by a sound no Berkian ever wanted to hear, yet heard all too often.

The warning horn blaring from the highest watchtower, signaling incoming danger.

The dragons were raiding Berk again.

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Astrid jumped up instantly, the warning blare still ringing in her ears. Quickly, she grabbed her trusty axe before she raced up the stairs into the unfamiliar room she now had to sleep in, coming to a skidding halt in front of the large wardrobe. Opening the heavy door, she peered inside and felt relief that there was a green tunic hanging ready for her, as the girl had forgotten to pick up the discarded garment from the Mead Hall after Hiccup had thrown it away the night before. With haste, the blonde girl donned the tunic, it wouldn't do for the villagers to see their new heir battling back the raiding devils without it after all.

Stoick shouted for her, and she raced back down the stairs, jumping the last three and following the huge man out of the door. Her eyes scanned the horizon, she could see that the beasts were nearly upon them. Stoick barked out orders to his warriors the second he'd departed the house before he turned to his new heir.

"Astrid, I need you to take charge of the other teens. Make sure they are in place to douse any houses that are alight, got it?" The Chief looked at the girl, expecting her to nod in acceptance, but to his surprise she shook her head and piped up "But Chief, think. I could get them organised before leaving Fishlegs in charge, and then take some warriors to the paddocks. The Dragons always steal our livestock, if we guard them, they won't be able to take them, Winter is coming soon Stoick, we can't afford to lose any more livestock to those Hel spawns."

The man stared at her, calculating her ideas, before deciding that it was worth the risk and nodded. Astrid felt pride that he trusted her to lead not only the other teens but a small squadron of experienced Vikings in protecting Berk's animals. She gave the large man a quick salute, affirming that yes, she could do as he asked. The Chief nodded at her once, before he raced away towards the catapults, shouting out orders as he went. Astrid spent but a moment admiring the man's leadership skills, knowing that one day, she too would lead Berk with the same unyielding authority and skill.

Astrid ran towards the village well, where the twins and Fishlegs were already filling up their buckets. Good, they were already armed and ready. She arrived at the well, eyes tracking over the other teens. The twins were, unsurprisingly, looking excited for the coming raid, no doubt hoping to see some destruction and chaos. Fislegs looked terrified, sweat dripping from his brow. Snotlout...was nowhere to be seen.

No! She needed _all_ of them here, without her around they were one teen down already, they couldn't afford another!

With a growl, she turned towards the three awaiting teens and ground out "Where is Snotlout? He should be here by now, Odin knows he never misses an opportunity to show off!"

Ruffnut and Tuffnut both blinked at the irate girl and simply shrugged their shoulders in unison, infuriating Astrid more, whilst Fishlegs looked around wildly, as if only just noticing the absence of the other male. With an audible gulp, the large blonde answered the heir "I-I don't know Astrid, he's not been around all day. What are we going to do? With only four of us and the size of the village, we'll only be able to safely cover sixty-four percent of-".

Astrid cut him off with a sharp motion of her hand, frantically looking around at the bustling Vikings running through the village. They needed reinforcements to replace both her and Snotlout, but where could..aha! Gustav and Woodnut were just over there, being ushered away towards the Mead Hall by Grandma Ingerman. They could bolster the ranks, sure they were a bit too young, but they needed all the help they could get. Determined, she strode over towards them and shouted towards the elder Ingerman to halt. "Hey, stop! I need these two to come with me, they'll be helping to douse the fires with the others."

Hilde Ingerman was shocked at the new heir's words, surely she could see that these two were much too young, it wasn't safe for them to be outside when the dragons were attacking, they'd be in danger! She drew herself up to her fullest height, ignoring the creaking in her old, tired bones and spoke sharply to the blonde girl before her. "Now you listen here, Astrid Hofferson. These two most certainly _will not_ be helping with anything. They are but youngsters, who have never even seen a raid before, and you expect them to be able to perform under fire? Why, I have half a mind to-"

Before the respected elder could build up a real head of steam, Astrid cut her off, matching her tone "I _expect_ you to listen to what I am ordering you. _I_ am Stoick's heir and the future Chief of this tribe, and if I tell you that these two are coming with me, they are coming with me, understand?" Astrid brought her axe up to rest under the elder's chin, eyes unyielding and fiery. Gustav and Woodnut stared between the two, both fearful over what could happen. Yes, they wanted to help their village, but nobody as young as they had ever been out during a raid, it was much too dangerous.

Grandma Ingerman looked back into the eyes of the young girl who was ordering her around as if she were Freyja herself, looking the threatening blonde up and down disdainfully. She remembered, many years ago, this very girl coming to her, eyes full of tears, with a scraped knee from playing with her grandson and that Hiccup boy too roughly. Hilde had patched the girl up, gave her a few words of encouragement and sent her back out into the world, with a few sharp admonishments towards the two boys Astrid counted as her best friends to be a bit less rough with her. That girl had been sweet and full of joy, yet now that self-same girl, much older, sharper and tougher was threatening her into obedience with that axe of hers.

"My my, how the mighty have fallen. So this is the future of Berk? Thank the Gods I won't be around to see the mess you'll make. You want to take these two, fine. But if _anything_ happens to them, on your head be it." The elder Igerman spoke cooly, before veritably draping herself in dignity and grace and walking away from the girl, but not before stopping before the two youngsters, holding them close and speaking softly to them, too soft for Astrid to here, before walking away with nary a backward glance.

Astrid watched the older woman leave, seething to herself. She'd deal with her tomorrow, right now she had more important matters to attend to. With a motion of her hand, she ordered the two youngsters to follow her and led them back over towards the well where the older teens had observed the confrontation with open mouths. Astrid ignored the furious gaze of Fishlegs, and spoke with authority to the group "Right, listen to me. These two will be joining you tonight. I won't be joining you, as Chief Stoick has asked me to lead a group of warriors in protecting the sheep. While I am gone, Fishlegs, you are in charge. I will hold you personally responsible if _any_ building burns down, got it?"

The mismatched group stared at the girl, not believing what she was saying. How could two children be expected to keep up without any training or experience? But before they could answer her the girl had whipped around and stalked off, hollering out orders and asking for specific Vikings, seemingly satisfied that they would follow her orders. And they would, no matter how much they may disagree.

After all, she was the Chief's chosen heir, and she must know best.

They only hoped that they wouldn't be proven wrong.

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Hiccup raced through the last bit of forest, trying to keep pace with the other men. They all knew what that horn meant, and they each had their own duties to fulfill. For Spitelout, he was needed on the front lines, helping to battle back the beasts and keep the village safe. For Snotlout, he was needed to help the fire brigade, trying to eradicate any fires. For Gobber, he was needed back at the forge, mending broken weapons and handing out spares for any who needed them. And Hiccup was needed at the forge, under Gobber's watchful eye, out of the way and not causing any damage.

Upon reaching the outskirts of the village the four stopped and turned to each other. No words were spoken, they were Vikings after all, but their eyes told the others of what each wanted to say.

 _Stay safe._

The four spread out, each running towards their areas of responsibility. Hiccup raced up the hill towards the forge, reaching the stone building before the old blacksmith. He dropped his bow and the sword he'd been using that day by the door, before lighting the lamps. With practiced ease, he speedily stoked the fire and gathered up their tools, so by the time Gobber had limped his way up the hill they were ready. Within moments, the two were working in their usual perfect rhythm, dancing around each other and bantering back and forth, sharpening weapons and manning the hatch which had soon been swarmed with Vikings needing their wares.

This continued for a while, until a sharp pain-filled shout echoed around, loud enough to be heard over the banging and clinking in the forge. Hiccup stopped in place, a shudder running down his spine, eyes wide with terror. He knew that voice.

" _Astrid"_

Without a thought, the blacksmith's apprentice raced out the door, picking up his bow and sword as he went, before speeding towards the sheep pens, ignoring Gobber's panicked shout. He heard Astrid scream out again, and he ran as quickly as he could towards her location. Within minutes, he'd arrived at the pens where a fierce battle had clearly taken place. Hiccup stopped, unable to process what he was seeing. Distantly, he was aware of Snotlout arriving and coming to a stop by his side, but Hiccup had no words of greeting for his cousin, and he gazed around the scorched land, trying to make sense of everything he was seeing.

Dragons were flying into the pen without any opposition, picking off the sheep and flying away without a care. Three Vikings were lying face down on the ground, Nadder spikes jutting out of their bodies, weapons and shields lying scattered around them where they had fallen as the Vikings dropped down to the ground, dead. He could see, just across the pen, two other Vikings battling back a Monstrous Nightmare, and as he watched, the great beast reared back and blew out a stream of deadly fire which quickly engulfed the two. Hiccup tore his eyes away, unable to watch as the two unfortunate souls as they fell down. But he couldn't block out the screams of pain and terror, try as he might, but it was worse when the screams stopped. He knew what that meant.

He snapped back to awareness when he felt Snotlout touch his shoulder, and he snapped his eyes over to his cousin. Snotlout was pointing towards his right, and Hiccup followed the line until he could see what Snotlout had spotted. Astrid was lying on the ground close to the wall of the pen, a Nadder spike embedded in the right side of her abdomen. Without a thought, Hiccup ran over to the girl, kneeled at her side and checked her vitals. The girl was groaning in pain even as she was trying to get back to her feet, but she was deathly pale, and there were copious amounts of blood pooled around her. Hearing a screech, Hiccup shot to his feet and looked to the sky. Nine dragons, four Monstrous Nightmares, three Gronckles and two Nadders were flying towards them hoping to make away with the last of Berk's livestock.

Hiccup watched their approach, feeling oddly calm and at ease. He switched his footing around so he was standing over Astrid protectively, feeling more than seeing his cousin stand behind him so they were back to back. Hiccup turned his head slightly so he could make eye contact with Snotlout, barely having time to nod his head in thanks before the dragons were upon them.

Drawing his sword, Hiccup slashed out, catching a Gronckle that had dive-bombed him, catching it across the side and wing. The beast tried to right its flight course but collided with the wall of the pen, struggling to regain altitude with its slashed wing. Hiccup stabbed the sword into the ground before him and withdrew his bow. No thoughts went through his mind as he notched his arrow and took aim. He fired, and noted with subdued satisfaction that his aim was true as the arrow thudded into the beast's head. It dropped to the ground, falling slightly to the side before lying still. It would not rise again.

He turned back to the direction the dragons were approaching from, only just ducking in time when a Nadder shot its tail spikes towards him. He felt a brief moment of panic that his duck had inadvertently placed Snotlout in danger, but he had nothing to worry about as his cousin managed to dive out of the way before rolling back into postion at Hiccup's back.

It was a shame, really, that the only witness to the battle that began to take place was a half-dead teenage girl that couldn't be sure if what she was seeing was real or not. The two cousins battled back the beasts in a flurry of violent swings, defending and attacking in perfect unison, never allowing their foes to get close enough to harm either of them or the one they were protecting. If Hiccup attacked, Snotlout defended him with his shield, and if Snotlout attacked, Hiccup readied his bow, ready to shoot any dragon who held thoughts of attacking his cousin out of the sky.

The battle dance continued for a few furious minutes, and the song of war danced through Hiccup's veins. He'd heard stories of this feeling when he was young but had dismissed it as a mere folk-tale, designed to inspire young Vikings into a life of a warrior. It was said that, in the midst of a battle against a foe so much stronger than yourself, Freyja would sing her battle song, and the sound would carry you through the fight, strengthening you and allowing you to fight at a much higher level than you ever had before. And Hiccup felt it then, felt the beautiful song as he slashed, ducked, dived, parried and fired, and knew that they would win this battle.

Soon, the sounds of screeching, flapping wings and metal meeting scaly flesh faltered and Freyja's song began to die down, allowing Hiccup to look around him and take stock.

All nine of the dragons were lying scattered around them, never to take to the skies again. All but one of the beasts were dead, and Hiccup's eyes sought out the lone survivor. A Monstrous Nightmare, lying a few metres away, two arrows sticking out of its chest. The beast was breathing heavily, eyelids drooping, and it was clear to Hiccup that it too would soon be gone.

Hiccup sighed, now that the battle was over, he felt no hatred towards the dying creature. It needed to be put out of its misery, there was no honour in allowing it to die a long, drawn-out death. Luckily, Snotlout also seemed to be thinking along those lines, for his cousin had stepped out from his position behind Hiccup and begun to walk towards the downed beast. With a few long strides, the burly teen was standing at the dragon's side, sword raised high in the air above its neck. The beast didn't even raise its head towards the danger, accepting that it's time had come and merely closed its eyes and rested it's head down on the ground, awaiting the blow that would release end its pain.

Snotlout chuckled slightly as he looked down at the Nightmare before him "Huh, I guess I will be the first to kill one of you." And the sword swung down in its deadly arc, and time seemed to slow to a halt as the tell-tale screech was heard.

Hiccup's eyes were torn away from his cousin and to the sky. He could _just_ the outline of that fabled dragon who no Viking had ever seen before and the most dangerous of them all. The Night-Fury.

The elusive beast was flying down from the clouds, aiming for his cousin. The screech it had given was a sure warning of what was to come, and Hiccup had barely any time to prevent what was to come.

Freyja's song coursed through his veins once more, louder than before. He had one shot, or his cousin was dead. He withdrew his bow, notched the arrow and took aim. The dragon was clearly visible now, owing to the violent purple fire building up in its mouth. Hiccup aimed three metres in front of the dragon, hoping that it would fly into the line of fire.

Time had nearly ground to a halt as Hiccup fired the arrow, and it sped up as soon as the projectile left his bow. It all happened so quickly.

Snotlout, head shooting up into the sky even as his sword cut through the Nightmare's neck. The Night-Fury, shooting out its blast even as it pulled up and away from the arrow heading for its brain, throwing off its aim if only slightly.

Snotlout, jumping back away from the blast, which impacted the large body of the now headless Monstrous Nightmare. Hiccup, quickly firing off another arrow, ignoring the furious roar of the Night-Fury, which one more dodged the projectile, before flying upwards away from the danger, knowing it could no longer help its fallen brethren.

Hiccup stood, watching the retreat of the beast, was powerless to look away as the dragon turned its head back to him, two sets of green eyes locking gazes with the other. He was under its spell as the two looked at each other before the Night-Fury tore its gaze away from the Viking boy and quickly reached the clouds in the night sky, where Hiccup could no longer see it.

Even as Snotlout stumbled back towards him, shock and adrenaline racing through his body, and even as he helped his cousin lift Astrid up and carry her back to the village, the former heir's thoughts were on the Night-Fury and the eyes that had reflected his own.

He had a feeling that he'd be seeing that dragon again.

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Stoick dropped into his armchair, face resting in his two large hands. The house was empty, for his new heir was currently in the capable hands of the Gothi, having been wounded during the battle.

Astrid.

He'd thought the girl to be the perfect heir, smart and capable, but tonight had proven that he had overestimated the girl. Or she had overestimated herself, for it had been her idea for her to take a group of Vikings to protect the livestock under her leadership. But Stoick had allowed it to happen, so he must shoulder the blame for her failure. Five good Vikings were dead, all with families and loved ones, and only Astrid had survived.

And that was all thanks to his former heir, his estranged son Hiccup. When Stoick had heard the tale of all that had happened up near the pens after Astrid had fallen, his knees had nearly given out from under him in shock. The boy, who until recently had been the _worst_ Viking Berk had ever seen, had placed himself in danger to protect Astrid despite the girl replacing him as Stoick's heir without a thought for his own safety. And he had, along with Snotlout, felled _nine_ dragons, and driven off a Night-Fury!

Stoick's heart swelled with pride. It didn't matter that he'd disowned the boy, he was still his son, and he'd proven himself to be not only a warrior any Chief would be proud of but a hero to boot.

But the pride in his heart had to share space with the shame that filled it also. For Astrid's decision to enlist two children, both barely over the age of nine, had caused the deaths of the two youngsters.

Stoick's knees had very nearly given out in shock and grief upon hearing the story from a teary Fishlegs Ingerman. The large, soft-spoken boy had told the Chief that the two had been told by his new heir that they were to help the fire brigade, despite protestations from Hilde Ingerman (who Astrid has threatened into submission), and the youngsters had performed surprisingly admirably at first. They had helped the older teens to douse three homes that had been set alight, but upon the fourth house, they had all struggled to combat the violent flames, and young Gustav had raced into the house with his bucket, determined to attack the flames from within and shouting that "Astrid wanted us to be brave."

Woodnut, ignoring the warning shouts from her older siblings and Fishlegs, had raced after the boy, nearly passing the threshold of the house before it collapsed before her, Gustav still trapped inside. A wooden beam had struck the young girl across the face, burning her eyes and setting her hair alight. She had run around as her long blonde hair burnt down to her scalp and she had run around shouting and screaming before she had fallen down to the ground, silent. Stoick had seen such a terrible sight himself, and knew that the poor girl's brain had been roasted in her skull.

Stoick had been there when the twins had raced down to the Gothi's house, their limp younger sister held between them, shouting through grief-stricken throats for the Gothi to help her, but there was nothing to be done. Fishlegs had followed slowly, the charred, blackened body of Gustav held closely to his chest as he sobbed quietly to himself.

Stoick had announced that the two youngsters would receive a warrior's funeral each, the highest honour he could give the two brave (and, though he only admitted it to himself, foolish) children, and the only consolation he could give to their distraught parents.

Two young lives had been abruptly ended tonight, and though the inexperienced actions of both were in part to blame for their deaths, they would never have been there and in danger if not for Astrid.

Stoick was furious with the girl, and as soon as she was released from Gothi's care, she would face him and his fury.

He'd been so sure that Astrid was the right choice, he'd trusted her to be able to lead and show the village just why he had named her his heir. But Stoick and Berk had been rewarded with seven deaths where the blame could be traced back to Astrid.

A loud banging reverberated around the house, and the furious, pain-filled voices of the Thorsten parents could be heard on the other side of the door. Stoick wearily rose to his feet, steeling himself for the confrontation to come.

Because he knew he couldn't blame Astrid solely for what had happened tonight.

He was just as much to blame for the pain felt by the two parents, as well as the families of the six others lost this night due to his choice and misplaced trust.

And Hiccup? He'd proven himself a hero. Had he made a mistake with his choice? Or could this devastating night be the wake-up call Astrid needed?

The future of Berk depended on the answer to that question.

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 **A/N: I'm sorry! There is a reason why I've done this, which will soon be revealed over the coming chapters. I know I haven't warned you that there will be character death in this story, but I don't want to spoil the plot by revealing too much too soon, which is why no pairings, if there are any, have been declared. I hope you will all understand and will look forward to seeing what happens going forward.**

 **Tell me in the reviews what you think will happen next, and what the repercussions will be for Astrid and if Hiccup will receive more respect in the village.**

 **Please follow, favourite and review, and have a good one.**

 **Goodnight.**


	8. Astrid Alone

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **I apologise yet again for the long period between updates, so to make up for my idleness I'll be uploading two chapters for you guys this week.**

 **Also, if anyone would like to recommend my story on one of them fancy community thingymabobs, that would be grand.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon, all I own is a devilishly handsome face.**

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Astrid Hofferson sat alone in the dark, lifeless hut she'd awoken in not an hour before. After the sudden shock at waking up in an unfamiliar place, she'd felt the sharp pain in her side and frantically cast her mind back to how she'd been injured. The images flashed through her mind in a cruel roulette, the shouts and screams of her fallen brethren, the heat of the dragons' flame stifling the air around her, the impact of the Nadder spike sending her tumbling to the ground. Over and over, the images replayed themselves in the girl's mind, and the panic and fear set in.

How could it have gone so badly?

It had seemed so simple, really. Astrid had often mused to herself on how much of a difference it would make to Berk's fortunes if a small team of capable warriors was to be posted by the paddocks to guard the livestock, so the idea was always going to be one of the first suggestions the girl would make upon becoming the heir. And Stoick had agreed, hadn't he? If there were a flaw to her plan, their wise, battle-hardened Chief would surely have pointed it out and shot her idea down, but he'd agreed.

And so Astrid had ordered the first group of Vikings she'd laid eyes on to head to the paddocks and await her arrival, for they were to be given an important job to do. The men and women had wholeheartedly agreed and had trotted to their post with nary a grumble of discontent. After a short disagreement with the elder Ingerman, who had _dared_ to question her heir's decision to enlist two eager, albeit young, recruits to the fire brigade (a decision she felt was inspired), she'd joined up with her squad and held them all captive with a rousing speech, articulating the importance of their task and how honoured they would all be when they succeeded in driving off the thieving beasts and protecting Berk's animals. Oh, how they'd lapped up her words, allowed the words of hope and strength to fill them with determination and steel, ready to lay their lives down for Berk and even more, for Astrid.

And they had.

Astrid knew that all but herself had perished, for every time she closed her eyes the faces of the fallen were etched onto the insides of her eyelids, taunting her, driving her mad with the memory of her failure, for not only had she failed to prevent Berk's livestock from being carried away in the dragons' claws, she had failed to protect the lives of her fellow tribe members.

Astrid's first foray into leadership had been an unmitigated disaster on every account, and she had no one to blame but herself.

The blonde Viking sat for a while more, punishing herself with the detailed memories of her failure and the horrors she had witnessed during the battle until her memory happened upon a hazy fog, unclear images only suggesting what could have happened next. She knew that she had been injured, the deep throbbing wound in her side was a testament to that, and she had fallen to the ground, but how had she survived?

Vaguely, she remembered two figures, men she decided, had arrived and discovered her fallen form sprayed on the bloody ground, but they hadn't carried her away for medical attention straight away. Why was that? Had they stopped to survey the battlefield, piece together what had happened and decide whether she deserved to be saved at all?

Nevertheless, the two men had clearly brought her to safety so it was her duty to learn their identities and proclaim her gratitude, even if it did grate upon the girl that she had needed saving at all.

Astrid pushed aside her self-pitying thoughts with a mental heave and settled back into reviewing the battle, finding peace and serenity in searching for flaws in her tactics and skills as she had done so many times before, already forming plans and strategies on how to improve and come back stronger than ever.

Slowly, Astrid's eyelids began to droop, her tired, battered body demanding rest, and as the girl struggled with her hopeless fight against sleep the last conscious image that flashed across her mind was of a roaring fire, spreading high and wide around a tall man whose features were so shrouded in shadow that Astrid could not begin to recognise his identity but for one small clue.

The intense green eyes that seared into her mind's eye and to her soul.

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Rumbling voices filtered through the young Viking's mind, pulling her from her slumber gradually. As consciousness took ahold of her, Astrid blearily opened her eyes and looked around. She was still in what she now recognised as Gothi's hut if the healing herbs and pastes scattered around the room were anything to go by, and the sunlight creeping through the open doorway suggested that she had slept for a while. Astrid's attention was quickly diverted however to the open doorway, where three figures were talking in low, hushed voices. Well, two of them were, and they didn't sound happy. Sneakily, the girl closed her eyes and burrowed under the covers to feign sleep, hoping to hear what they were talking about.

"The girl must be punished, Stoick. There is no excuse for what she did, heir or not, and she must learn the consequences of making such poor decisions." It seemed that Gobber was present, and as one of the very few Vikings who could discern Gothi's markings it was understandable, but the man didn't sound happy at all. It seemed strange to Astrid to hear the steel and anger in the man's voice, he was usually a jovial and kind man, if a stern teacher nonetheless. Her musings were cut off by a loud sigh, and the loud, booming voice of her Chief answered the blacksmith.

"She will be. She will be punished, and she will apologise publically to the families of the fallen. She will-". The large man stopped suddenly, and Astrid was confused as to why. She soon found out the reason however when her covers were pulled abruptly back, and a burning pain emitted from her wound. Her eyes shot open and she hissed in pain, arms flung out to fight off her attacker. She just about held herself back once she saw the old gnarled face of the Gothi, ancient healing hands pressed down on the wound in Astrid's side. The old woman's eyes found Astrid's, and the girl could see the message written clearly in the wise blue depths: Don't fight, it will only make it worse.

Her sudden show of alertness had brought the two older men over to her bedside, and as the Gothi re-wrapped her bandages, Astrid chanced a glance at the two suddenly towering figures. Anger and scorn were etched clearly onto the face of the blacksmith, who looked as if he wanted to either tear her head clean from her shoulders or storm out of the room as soon as he could, and Astrid dearly hoped he chose the second option. Astrid felt extreme trepidation as her eyes sought out the face of her Chief, the man who had named her as his heir, and what she found there hurt her more than a thousand Nadder spiked could.

Stoick looked down at her with an expression she had seen many times before but never directed towards her. How often had she seen the disappointed scowl, the barely restrained anger of the Chief of Berk towards Hiccup? Whenever the scrawny boy left disaster in his wake, he could be sure to receive that look from Stoick once his mistake was caught, and the boy had always withered under its gaze, sinking into himself like a dying wildflower, and Astrid had always looked at him with resentment, feeling the boy should show some backbone and not shrink under the slightest bit of anger, and yet now Astrid felt herself involuntarily mimicking the former heir's actions, pulling herself smaller in a show of meekness and vulnerability.

The girl's heart was racing, threatening to burst out of her chest it was beating that hard against her breastbone. Gathering up all of her resolve and Viking spirit, she carefully swung her legs around until they were resting on the floor and pulled her back up straight, awaiting the Chief's words. Her valiance didn't stretch far enough to raise her head, however, and she stared fearfully at the wooden floor, wringing her hands and beginning to sweat profusely.

The silence stretched for a few minutes, and Astrid wished for the ground to swallow her up whole. Gone was the angry Chief she'd seen deal with Hiccup, who immediately cut the boy through with acidic words and admonishments. Now, Stoick seemed happy to let the girl wait for her dressing down, seeming to know that the anticipation would torture her. Absently, she tucked the information away in her mind, it was a good tactic to use against your enemies. Her eyes widened at the thought, _what does that make me?_

A cleared throat caused the girl's head to snap to attention, though she dearly wished it hadn't, for _that_ look was still there. She knew enough to know that she shouldn't lower her head again, as the Chief's anger was still visible, simmering away despite his best efforts to contain it. Swallowing, Astrid ventured "Chief?"

The man's scowl deepened as he glared down at the girl. "Astrid. I hope your recovery is going well?" The girl nodded once, and Stoick's eyes darkened. "Good, at least you'll get better, which is more than I can say for the two Vikings we lost during the raid, all thanks to you."

Astrid immediately felt shame at the man's words, he was right, thanks to her _foolish_ actions two...wait, two? That meant that some of her team had survived!

"Chief? You said two people had died? I thought that all of them had been killed during the battle?" The Chief shook his large head at the girl, readying himself to give her the news of Gustav and Woodnut's grisly fate.

"No, you were correct in your assumption, every one of the warriors who accompanied you in the defence of the paddocks perished. But those Vikings, good Vikings, are not the loss I am angry about, Astrid. It was the deaths of two youngsters, children, that has shaken my faith in my chosen heir!" By the end, Stoick's voice had risen loud enough to shake the foundations of the hut, and Astrid had to fight to keep herself from covering her ears with her hands. By the time the walls had ceased to shake, the man's angry words sunk in, and Astrid felt like she'd been struck across the face by Thor himself.

Stoick leaned in towards Gobber and spoke low into the man's ear, too quiet for Astrid to hear even if she had been trying to listen instead of trying to prevent the world from crashing down around her, and the blacksmith nodded once and left the room. Gothi shuffled out after the man, leaving Astrid alone with the furious Chief.

The large man sank down into the chair opposite Astrid's bed, quietly waiting for the realisation to sink into the girl's mind. After a few minutes silence, the light returned to the girl's blue eyes, and she looked up tearfully at the man. Stoick let out a long sigh and gave her a nod of understanding. He'd been a young and inexperienced Chief once, and some of his decisions had lead to the deaths of his people. He knew the pain and shame the girl would feel, so part of him could sympathise with Astrid, but the simple fact remained that he had never been the cause of the deaths of children, so Astrid's punishment had to be swift and public.

"Astrid." The girl tried to pull herself together, wiping away the growing tears with her arm. "Yes, Chief?"

Stoick straightened his back, unconsciously switching into his Chief mindset over that of a mentor. "Your decision to enlist Gustav and Woodnut into the fire brigade was rash and unthoughtful, not to mention your disrespect towards Hilde Ingerman, and was a direct cause in the gruesome deaths of the two." Stoick took great pains to keep his voice clear and level, despite the anger growing once more at the memory of what had happened.

"H-How did they die, Chief? I need to know...I need to know what I did." Stoick was impressed with the girl's repentance but doubted that she'd be able to handle the details of what had transpired. On the one hand, not knowing would spare the girl's conscience, allowing her to move on from the whole sorry debacle, but on the other, she needed to know _exactly_ what had transpired to let the lesson sink in fully. Coming to a decision, the man spoke once more, the grief lacing into his voice. "Gustav and Woodnut handled themselves well, according to Fishlegs Ingerman, but their obvious inexperience and rashness would lead to tragedy. The brigade came upon a house that, really, was beyond saving, but Gustav decided he wanted to take it on. He ran into the house, ignored the shouts from the older, more experienced heads, and was soon followed by young Woodnut." Stoick removed his helmet, holding it in his hands. He began to turn the helmet over and over in his large hands, building the courage to continue with his tale. Astrid motioned for him to continue, and with a long drawn-out intake of air, the man delivered the news to his heir.

"The house collapsed. The support beams had been damaged too greatly, and the whole thing fell down. Gustav was still inside, there was no chance of survival, but Woodnut hadn't quite made it past the threshold. A beam fell down, striking her across the face and setting her hair alight. The heat...cooked her brain inside of her skull. It wasn't a quick death, it was terrible, painful death. Whilst your friends, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, frantically hurried their baby sister to what they hoped would be salvation, young Fishlegs waited for the flames to die down enough to recover Gustav's corpse. I saw them both, and I know that the sight will stay with me until the day I make my journey to Valhalla."

By the end of the tale, Astrid's body wracked with silent sobs, and as soon as the man finished she openly began to bawl, not caring about showing weakness in front of her Chief. She'd killed them, she'd killed them both. Two children, one the younger sibling of her friends, would never see the light of another sun, never enter Dragon Training, never find loved ones for themselves and have children. All that awaited them was a burning ship to the afterlife, and it was all her fault.

Suddenly, the girl shot to her feet, determined to leave the room, but a strong hand held her back by the arm and spun her around until she was face to face with Stoick the Vast. "Where are you going, Astrid?"

"I need to go! I need to go and make things right! I-I need to apologise...to everyone. I _killed_ them, Chief." The man rose to his feet, hands clamped down on the girl's shoulders.

"You will, Astrid. Right now. You've been here for four days-" The girl's head shot up, alarmed. She hadn't known how long she'd been unconcious, though it made sense considering her wounds. "-and Gothi tells me you are now strong enough to move. So we will go now, to the village square, and you will apologise publically to the families of the fallen. And then..."

The girl tilted her head at the man. "And then?"

Stoick lowered his head to his chest and closed his eyes. In a way, this was as hard for him as it would be for her.

"And then, you will face your punishment."

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Astrid stood, eyes forward, as Stoick gave his speech to the village, explaining what Astrid's punishment would be and how it would be delivered. Astrid didn't care about the details however, she'd known as seen as she laid eyes on the post what would come. She'd only ever heard of this happening once before to a man called Alvin, long before she was born, and before that, no one in living memory knew. And yet here she was, naked from the waist up, front pressed up against the post with her arms tied around it.

Twenty lashes, to be administered by Woodnut's parents, the twins, Gustav's parents, Stoick himself, Fishlegs, Snotlout and...Hiccup. When Stoick had announced his decision on Astrid's punishment, he had requested each of them to deliver two lashes each. The family members were obvious choices, as well as Stoick as the Chief. Fishlegs was chosen thanks to the horrific trauma he'd suffered in having to carry Gustav's burnt corpse to his parents, and Snotlout and Hiccup were chosen as a reward for their heroism during the raid, though Astrid knew Stoick meant something else in his choice. Having Hiccup hand out two lashes, coincidentally the final two, would hurt her more than anyone else, even her parents. This was the boy she had been chosen to replace because she was everything he wasn't. She was the smart, brave, fierce warrior, and he was the hiccup. But now? Now the hiccup was a hero, a respected warrior thanks to his actions, and she was in disgrace, a failure as an heir on every level, and using Hiccup was supposed to show her how far she had fallen.

Still, Astrid doubted that even the pain of the whip could hurt more than the apology she had given to the victims' families. Whereas Gustav's parents had merely shrugged aside her futile attempts at apologising, Woodnut's parent's had spat at her feet before she could even utter a word before walking to the whip line, waiting to deliver her punishment. The twins had lingered for a moment longer, never speaking a word. They didn't need to, she knew the look in their eyes meant they would do everthing in their power to make Astrid's life Hel. And really, she deserved it, didn't she?

She was drawn from her thoughts by heavy footfalls approaching her before a large hand dangled something in front of her face. She strained to turn her head enough to see who had approached and saw the stone-face of her father, who said nothing to her other than to nod his head at what he held before her. A piece of bark, evidently to bite down on and prevent screams of pain. Once Astrid had bitten down on the offering, her father walked away without another glance, and it felt like the twenty lashes had already been administered.

Distantly, her mind registered Stoick's shout for the first lash to delivered, and Astrid attempted to steel herself for the pain to come. She slowed her breathing down and closed her eyes, biting down on the piece of bark. All the warning she had was a sharp crack ringing around, and then the pain came.

Oh Odin, how it hurt! Already she could feel the wound welling up, blood trickling down her back. Not a moment later, a second crack was heard, and yet more pain raced across the girl's back, and she bit down as hard as she could on the bark, tears streaming down her face. The only thing preventing the girl from struggling against her bonds and trying to free herself was the memory of the last time she had spoken to Gustav and Woodnut and the eagerness the two had felt at Astrid's order, the order that led them to their deaths.

Crack! Pain. Blood. Screams. Crack! God's, how could she take twenty of these?

A minute passed without another stroke, and Astrid opened her eyes and looked behind her. Tuffnut was holding the whip, his usual expressive face empty of all emotion as he stared at the girl before him. Closing her eyes and facing forward once more, Astrid allowed herself a small nod of acceptance. Tuffnut was waiting, waiting for the pain of the previous lashes to settle down before opening up another wound on her back, making it hurt all the more. And he had every right to, he'd lost his baby sister thanks to her.

Crack! Astrid felt proud that she hadn't wet herself yet, the pain was so great.

Two minutes now, Astrid could feel the blood pooling at her feet. A loud cough was heard, perhaps it was Stoick or her father, and Tuffnut's second stroke lashed across her back, catching her left elbow on the way. This time, Astrid bit down so hard that she shattered the piece of bark. She spat out the chippings, and her breath came out in heavy, painful burst.

Ruffnut was next, and she took up a different, yet infinitely more painful strategy to her brother. Instead of aiming for her back, Ruffnut's quick stokes impacted her legs, one after the other, and Astrid cried out loudly, voice filled with pain. The village was silent as they watched the punishment, other than the sound of bitter laughter behind her. She knew the other girl was enjoying administering the punishment, but thankfully she'd already fulfilled her quota.

Crack! Crack!

Apparently not! Two more lashes across her legs and Astrid cried out once more. Ruffnut's laughter was much louder now, the sadistic joy evident for all to hear. Craning her neck around, Astrid looked at the girl, wondering why she had been allowed an extra two strokes. She received her answer however when she saw Gustav's mother nod towards Ruffnut and step back into the throng beside her husband. Ah, Gustav's parents had given up their lashes to Ruffnut, knowing the girl would make sure it hurt as much as possible. Smart, really.

Crack! Crack! Odin, when will it end?

Breathing quickly, Astrid struggled to hold herself up with the pain in her legs. She felt faint and weak, and judging by the large pool of blood she was now standing in, it was no surprise.

CRACK!

Oh, Gods! Oh sweet Freyja, that hurt! That must have been Stoick, nobody else could have struck with that much force. Seven more, Astrid, just seven-CRACK!

Astrid threw up, not caring that it sprayed all over her chest, and audibly began to cry. She didn't care how weak she appeared to the onlooking village, let's see any one of them take this and still keep their dignity!

Crack! Fishlegs' heart wasn't in it, it seemed, for his first lash had been much weaker than any that came before it, but by now every lash was hitting an already open wound, causing her immense pain and blood to pour out. Crack! Four more, just four more and then she could find a nice cave to crawl into and die.

Crack! Crack! Snotlout followed in Fishlegs' footsteps, lightening his strokes and delivering them as quickly as possible to minimise the pain. Astrid never imagined she'd think it but thank Thor for Snotlout.

Just two more to go and Astrid believed that these would be the worst. Astrid looked back, towards the boy, her childhood friend, who would deliver the final two lashes. Hiccup stood with his head lowered, whip in hand, and Astrid just stared at the boy. He looked... _strong._ Almost as if something had changed in him fundamentally that allowed him to exude confidence and strength he'd never had before. Gone was the nervous and stuttering boy, who'd be more likely to whip himself than her, to be replaced by a man, a warrior, who would do his duty to his tribe. As Astrid stared at the boy, who adjusted his grip on the whip, readying his strike, she realised how they'd practically switched places. Now, it was she who was the hiccup, the disappointing heir to the tribe, and he the capable warrior, the teenage prodigy whose hands the village could trust with their safety. Oh, the whims of the Gods.

Hiccup raised his head, and his eyes met hers. His _green_ eyes. Astrid gasped, those were the eyes from her dream! But that meant-CRACK!

"AHH!" Astrid craned her back as much as her position allowed and cried out to the sky above, mind clouded over with pain not just of the physical kind but mental also. She knew that it would hurt more coming from Hiccup, but Thor she hadn't realised how much, not to mention how he'd suddenly acquired the strength of his father in administering the lash. But then, if their positions had been reversed, Astrid knew she'd have held no punches herself.

Panting, Astrid raised her head once more and locked gazes with those powerful green eyes. Hiccup's face was blank, jaw set firm, making it clear that he held no qualms performing the task of punishing Astrid. In his eyes, Astrid searched for the compassion and kindness she'd once been accustomed to seeing, but there was no emotion swimming in the emerald depths. Hiccup raised his hand back, and time seemed to slow to a halt. Astrid and Hiccup stared at each other, one silently pleading, the other cool and distant. Astrid's eyes filled with tears, and she silently mouthed "Please."

CRACK!

Astrid sagged against her bonds, feeling the incredible pain course through her body. Footsteps approached and with a quick motion the ropes holding her arms around the post were cut, and Astrid fell fully to the ground. The girl lay on her front, crying her heart out, not caring a jot about anyone watching.

She definitely didn't care about the warm wetness gathering in her groin area, even though some of the younger children began to point it out to the crowds.

Somebody crouched down beside her, and suddenly she was covered with a soft material. Looking up, she met the eyes of Hiccup himself, sans his sheepskin coat. Astrid's mouth opened in surprise, tears and pain forgotten, but before she could thank the other teen, he rose to his feet and walked away from her without a second glance. Astrid watched him go, silently pleading for him to come back, to comfort her, even if she had no idea _why._ She had no time to ponder it, however, as strong arms lifted her up and began to carry her away. Her father had come to save her it seemed, removing his disgraced daughter from the scene. As she was carried away, she heard Stoick shout "Astrid Hofferson has served her punishment, and has taken steps to regain her honour. I will hear nothing of any further, unsanctioned punishments, _understand?"_

Astrid didn't have to look back to know what the twins reaction to that would be, she could hear the protestations even as her father's long legs quickly removed her from the area. Instead, the girl burrowed her face into her father's chest and cried her heart out. In no time they arrived at her father's destination, and Astrid turned slightly from her position to see the doors to her home.

The Chief's house, that is, not her real home.

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Without a word, Henrik Hofferson opened the door and carried his battered daughter over the threshold to the house. Kicking the door closed behind him, he unceremoniously deposited the girl on the ground, where she hurriedly got to her feet and stared up at him.

"Pull yourself together, daughter. Stoick will be here shortly, and I'm sure he has no great wish to see his heir in such a state. What you did shamed not just the Chief, but the entirety of the Hofferson clan. And yet, you have served your punishment, even if you handled it without dignity." At this, he motioned to the vomit caked over her chest and the stain on her groin. "But there shall be no more talk of this whole sorry affair. From now, you start afresh. You will listen to everything Stoick teaches you, and you _will_ learn your own limitations, won't you?"

Astrid nodded, and the man cupped her face for a moment as he often did when she was a child, before turning and leaving Astrid alone in the house to await Stoick's return. Quickly, and with pained movements, Astrid headed over to the hearth, lighting the fire to warm the house. Satisfied that a healthy fire would grow, she made her way over to the stove where a pot of stew was luckily waiting. Astrid took the pot over to the fire where it could heat up, ready for the Chief when he returned.

Astrid was busying herself sweeping the dusty floor when Stoick entered the house, and the man stood in the doorway in shock at the sight. This girl, who not ten minutes before had been receiving twenty harsh lashes, was busying herself like a housewife, not even taking the time to tend to her wounds or wash the sick and urine from her body. At least the old Astrid diligence was back, if not the pride.

Entering his home further, the Chief closed the door and headed over to the girl, who was trying and failing to seem blissfully unaware of his arrival. Arriving before her, Stoick took the broom from the girl's hands, leading her to visibly sag, and placed it back into the cupboard. Turning, he observed the silent girl standing in the centre of the room with no small amount of pity. She made quite the sight.

"Astrid, go and get yourself a wash, and then head to bed. In this house, there will be no more talk of what has transpired, it is all in the past. Tomorrow, we will restart your lessons." Astrid attempted to protest, half-heartedly pointing to the pot of stew. "No, I wouldn't advise you eat anything until tomorrow, you'll more than likely throw it back up. Now, off with you. You have a busy day tomorrow." With that, the Chief of Berk shooed the still-bleeding girl up the stairs and out of the room.

Once satisfied that she wouldn't be returning, the large man went to rescue the pot of stew from the stove. Her heart was in the right place, but all she needed to do was set the flame to a simmer, not a roaring fire. The poor food was nearly unsalvagable. With a shake of his head, Stoick doused the flames and placed the pot back into the kitchen. After taking a moment to listen out for Astrid, and hearing the sounds of washing, the man left the house for the Mead Hall where he could get a good, unburnt meal.

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Astrid stayed in the bath for as long as she could, savouring the warmth of the water as it soothed her wounds. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and Astrid climbed out of the tub and dried herself as much as she could, the towel hurt her wounds after all.

Heading down the hall to her room, Astrid barely made it three steps in before she collapsed onto the floor, not having the energy to rise and get into bed. It had hit her that this was _Hiccup's_ room, to such an extent that she could smell him as soon as she walked in. Closing her eyes, she breathed in long and slow, taking in the Hiccup-ness on the air. She'd never really noticed his scent before, but now it was the nicest scent she'd ever smelled.

Astrid's face was flat on its side on the floor, and when she opened her eyes she happened to look down at the floorboards. What was that?

Through the gaps in between the wood, she could see something hidden underneath one of the floorboards. Who...? Hiccup! This was his room, he must have hidden something under here, a secret only for his eyes to see. Suddenly, Astrid was gripped by an unshakable desire to uncover this treasure, this piece of the man she was fast becoming obsessed with. Rising to her knees, Astrid took to prying the loose floorboard up, struggling with the pain the movement caused her. Eventually however she succeeded and, reaching in with some difficulty, had retrieved her prize.

A book.

Why on Midgard would Hiccup hide away a book? What could be-oh, it was his diary! Hiccup had a diary! For a fleeting moment Astrid felt amusement that the boy _actually kept a diary,_ but her amusement quickly faded when she opened the diary to its first page.

It was a drawing of her.

It was... _amazing._ From what she could tell, having only ever seen her reflection in water or a particularly well-cleaned shield, this was definitely her, but was she really that beautiful? Astrid knew that yes, she was a pretty girl, and would have no trouble attracting a husband if she so wished, but Hiccup had drawn a goddess! And what was that written underneath? "The most beautiful girl on Midgard."

Hiccup...thinks I'm beautiful? Astrid couldn't help but feel the butterflies building in her stomach and the blush creeping onto her face. Suddenly, Astrid remembered a thousand interactions with the boy throughout the years, where his stuttering, his strange comments, the blush always present on his face all made sense. It was so sweet!

Flipping through the pages, Astrid skimmed the words written down. Documented were hundreds of events in Hiccup's life, little tidbits of information and Hiccup's thoughts. Astrid couldn't wait to read it all, but she knew she needed sleep. Turning all of the pages, Astrid knew that Hiccup must have had this diary for nearly all of his life, though it was no where near finished. In fact, the last entry was-

Oh.

The day that Stoick had tried to arrange a marriage between herself and Hiccup.

The day that she'd told him that she would _never_ marry him.

The day...the day that she had broken his heart.

Was it any wonder, really, that he'd had no problems whipping her today? She'd treated him like scum, like Dragon droppings on the bottom of her boot, when he'd thought she was the most beautiful girl on all of Midgard! What must it have done to him, to hear the horrid things she'd said to him that day in the forest when all he'd wanted was her company? And what did she do? She brushed him aside, thinking him completely pathetic and yet know, he was a hero. A hero! Despite her anger at herself, Astrid felt such pride for him and a strong sense of affection that was completely new but felt so right.

Turning back to the front of the diary, her eyes once again settled on the drawing of herself, marveling at how detailed and well-done it was. Hiccup was so talented, at this and at forging, she'd seen the hammer he'd made for Stoick, and know he was regarded as a great warrior. And this boy, this man, thinks that she is _this_ beautiful?

No.

He _thought_ she was beautiful. Now, now she wouldn't be surprised if he wanted her to rot in Hel.

Numbly, the girl climbed onto Hiccup's bed, holding the diary close to her chest.

Hiccup hated her, and she...she _loved_ him. That was why he'd appeared in her dream, why she had been so mesmerised by his eyes. She loved him, and she could never have him, because what man would ever want a disgrace like her?

Astrid Hofferson had cried many tears that day, tears of sorrow, tears of grief, and tears of pain.

And now, Astrid Hofferson fell asleep crying over a completely foreign and entirely unwanted cause.

Tears of heartbreak.

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 **A/N: It's a damn good job I revealed in Chapter 6 that Astrid is my favourite character (and not just HTTYD, she's my favourite character in _anything)_ otherwise you guys would think I hate her!**

 **Things will get better for Astrid, hopefully.**

 **Toothless will arrive soon, probably.**

 **Once again, I apologise for my tardiness in uploading, I promise there will be at least one new chapter coming out every week, and you'll get an extra this week too.**

 **Also, tell me in the reviews who YOUR favourite HTTYD character is and why, how you think I'm doing writing them and what you wish to see from your favourite character going forward with A Hiccup.**

 **Thank you all, please review, favourite and follow, and have a good one.**


	9. Years Of Change

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **I don't know what you're talking about, this is definitely the promised second chapter of the week and not a whole new weekly update hahaha shut up.**

 **Also a very big thank you to CajunBear73, I always look forward to your reviews, they are truly a thing of beauty.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon, though I do offer them £30 and a Mars Bar if they're willing to hand it over.**

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Hiccup entered the dark, empty forge and, after lighting the torches on the walls, sank into the chair at his desk, head in hands.

Today he had learned that Berk would be hosting the next Thing, the yearly gathering of the tribes, in little over a week. He'd have to face Thuggory, Dagur and Camicazi once again. Usually, he'd have felt excited at seeing the very few Vikings he counted as friends, but he hadn't seen them in over five years, not since Astrid had replaced him as Berk's heir.

Who was to say if they would still be his friends? Maybe, now that he wasn't the future Chief, they wouldn't want to pay him any attention now that they didn't need to. They'd likely spend their time bonding with Astrid, it would make sense really, they were all the future Chief's of the archipelago after all.

It didn't take the young blacksmith long to get over his panic, however. At 20, Hiccup was no longer the anxious teenager he had once been. Now, he was an accomplished blacksmith, a fine warrior, and a respected member of the tribe. Shaking his head at his own now unfamiliar bout of self-doubt, Hiccup rose to his feet and turned to stoke the fire, intending on tackling the small pile of repairs he had dallied on when out of the corner of his eye he spied a large shape he hadn't noticed when he'd arrived. Swiftly, he unholstered his sword and pointed it at the large shape, which instantly rose its remaining hand in submission.

"Still spying on me, Gobber? When you retired, I'd have thought you wouldn't need to keep dropping by to check I hadn't dismembered myself?" Lowering the sword, Hiccup allowed himself a small smile at the sight of his old mentor. The last few years hadn't been kind to the grizzled Viking, having lost his remaining leg in a particularly devastating raid when Hiccup was seventeen, yet the stubborn old goat still insisted on struggling through the hard walk up the hill to the forge to check on his former apprentice and son in all but blood.

"Aye lad, a big boy now you may be, but you will always be the apprentice and I the master, so I would be remiss in my honoured duty if I didn't come to check up on you...and the forge, I'll admit some surprise that it hasn't burnt down yet." Gobber smirked at the young man, who merely rolled his eyes and walked over to the pile of orders. At the top was an axe with a split down the shaft. Hiccup sighed to himself, give the man a mace, or a sword, and Snotlout was a force of nature, but the man just couldn't handle an axe without somehow damaging it, or worse himself. Hiccup set the weapon aside, he'd wait a few days to mend it and let his cousin sweat a little.

Gobber settled himself back onto his stool, nestled in the corner of the room, intending to enjoy the calm and ease he had always felt in the forge. The banging, clanking and general noise had always felt like music to him, but lately, when it had become Hiccup's forge, he'd enjoyed just watching his boy work his craft. In many ways, losing his remaining leg had been a devastating blow to the man, what with the pain and shame of it all. But in others, he'd been set free by the injury, no longer needing to get up at the crack of dawn and limp home at the dead of night. No, that was Hiccup's life now, and Gobber never wasted a chance to laugh at the young man's fate.

Hiccup was a whirlwind of activity, expertly shifting from one area to another, and Gobber took a few minutes to enjoy watching him work. Hiccup was already a better blacksmith than Gobber had ever been, even when he was a younger and whole, and teaching him was the best thing Gobber had ever done.

It didn't stop Gobber from messing with him, though.

It just took good timing, really. Hiccup was hammering away, straightening out the blade of a sword, and all Gobber had to do was wait for the swing of the hammer to be at it's apex and...

"So lad, what do you think about the upcoming visit, hmm?"

BANG

Hiccup cursed as he sucked on his poor, abused thumb, glaring at the former blacksmith. The man had his timing, he'd give him that, but that didn't stop him from being a foul, cantankerous old sod. Hiccup sighed, he supposed this talk was coming eventually. Gobber was one of the very few, along with Snotlout and Spitelout, who appreciated how lonely Hiccup had been during his younger years, and how much he had cherished the friendships he'd found with the other heirs. But that was it, he was no longer part of them anymore. That was Astrid's place, now.

As Hiccup pondered his thoughts to himself, Gobber sat patiently, waiting for the young man to speak his mind. His Hiccup was intelligent, ever so intelligent, but it really shone through when he was given the time to sieve through his thoughts and come to a conclusion. Many of Hiccup's most devastating, well, hiccups, had been down to impulse and ill-thought through plans, and Gobber took full credit in teaching such behaviours out of him.

Eventually, Hiccup had thought his question through enough to come to a decision. "Its just...it was hard, you know? When Stoick first removed me as heir, it was so hard, because it was like everything I'd ever been brought up to believe, the lessons he taught me about how to be a good Chief, were all for nothing. I'll never be the Chief, I'll never be more than the blacksmith, and that's _fine,_ now. I've come to peace with it, and I'm happy, happier than I was before, but it still hurt when it happened. And, with the other tribes coming, it's like I'm going to be reminded of it all. The others will know what has happened, they've known for years, so they won't have any need to talk to me, they'll be spending their time with Astrid, she is the future Chief after all, and I'll just be left by the wayside. And... I've _missed_ them, Gobber. They were the only friends I had...well, except for you." Gobber grinned at the younger man. "And that's just because no one else could stand the stories about your underwear." The grin swiftly disappeared.

Gobber mulled over what the boy said, he'd truly spoken his mind, which was a rarity nowadays with Hiccup. He'd gone from an open, over-exuberant teen to a quiet, closed-off man, so it was refreshing to hear the boy's innermost thoughts. He usually hid them from everyone, even Gobber. Though, he was wrong about one thing.

"I'm actually not so sure that they _do_ know, Hiccup. Berk hasn't taken part in a gathering since Astrid became the heir, Stoick has always made his excuses, so I'd wager that nobody outside of Berk knows." Hiccup's head shot up, brow furrowed in confusion.

Why wouldn't Stoick have told anyone?

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Whereas the rest of the village was consumed by preparations for the upcoming hosting of the clan's gathering, joyously going about their tasks with nary a complaint as it had been so long since they last met with their friends from across the seas, much too long for the Vikings of Berk's likings, inside the Chief's home the mood was considerably more subdued.

"Okay, Astrid, how will you handle Camicazi?" The Chief of Berk, still as large and powerful as ever despite the increasing number of raids in the past few years, grey hairs beginning to encroach on the fiery red, halted his pacing and turned, hands on hips, towards the young woman sitting in her armchair by the fire. Astrid shook herself from her daydreaming about a certain green-eyed tall man and frantically composed an answer that would satisfy the worried man. Astrid had grown to love the Chief as if he were a second father, but after nigh-on two full days of revision on her lessons she couldn't help but feel bored out of her skull.

"Ughmm...compliment her, not on her looks but on her battle prowess...point out her physical characteristics that would help in combat...mention how happy I am that there will be another female Chief?" Good, that should get her through this impromptu test.

Stoick beamed as if he'd just slain a Night-Fury. "Very good, Astrid! Bog-Burglar women don't care about their looks or feminine qualities, only their skills in battle and pirating, remember that. Now, Thuggory!"

Astrid blushed beet red and mumbled "Accept his incessant flirting without removing his head from his shoulders..." Stoick scowled "...I mean, accept his incessant flirting with good grace and courtesy. Erm...liken him to his father, who he idolises, and mention how by the looks of him he will become as good or better a Chief as his father?"

Stoick nodded, pleased. Camicazi he had no real worries about, despite her toughness and bravado she had a good heart if her strong friendship with Hiccup during their younger years was anything to go by, and should get along swimmingly with Astrid now that she had another female heir instead of yet another male, yet Thuggory had some room for issues. The boy, just like his father before him, was rumoured to be an unashamed womanizer, and Stoick had seen enough evidence during the last clan meeting before Berk's self-imposed exile to lend credence to the rumours. But, provided Astrid handled the young man's flirting, and it was a foregone conclusion that he would thanks to Astrid's unrivaled beauty, then the pair of them should be able to forge a strong friendship. However, there was one more heir to go, and he was the one that Stoick feared Astrid would not be able to deal with. Well, here goes nothing...

"And...Dagur?"

Astrid hated how much Stoick worried about her impending meeting with Dagur the Deranged, the heir of the Berserkers, and she truly had no idea why. Yes, he was completely, well, _deranged,_ and by the sounds of things disturbingly obsessed with Hiccup, and it really goes without saying why that might sour their relationship somewhat, but Astrid saw no reason why she would struggle to handle the man. All she had to do was..

"Well, I'd engage him in a conversation about fighting, and how much I admire the Berserkers' battle tactics, and how much I've been looking forward to meeting him after hearing so much about him, and then just stroke his ego whenever he mentions anything." Though she hoped she didn't overdo it, by the sound of things having Dagur the Deranged fall for her would be a disaster of Hiccup proportions.

Ughh, Hiccup.

Her stupid mind just had to wander to him again, didn't it? The man was on her mind almost non-stop, morning to night, and every hour in-between including her dreams, and no matter how much she tried, and Odin had she tried, Astrid just couldn't stop it.

She loved him. She truly, truly loved him, and it broke her heart that there was almost no chance of Hiccup ever returning her affections. He had loved her too, once, though Astrid hadn't known it at the time, and even if she had Astrid was ashamed to admit that she would have spurned him without a second thought. She'd been such a bitch when she was a teen, and to Hiccup especially, so was it any wonder that he'd grown to hate her after all that happened?

She'd taken his birthright and his home, after years of looking down on him and never giving him the time of day, it was absolutely expected that he would hate her guts for that. And yet, after that awful day when she had received her punishment for her greatest shame, he'd shown her a simple act of kindness, which seemed so simple now but meant the world to her at the time. When she'd been lying there topless in a puddle of her own blood, urine and vomit, battered and bruised with the whole village looking on impassively, Hiccup, the one who had had to deliver the final two lashes, had covered her with his jacket to help her regain a small modicum of dignity.

And there was also the small matter of Hiccup saving her life, that night up by the paddocks, amidst the fire and fury.

She'd tried to thank him, once, but she hadn't been ready to face him properly, not after her feelings for him had been unlocked after finding his diary, and the words had tumbled from her mouth in an incoherent rush to which the only answer from Hiccup was a blank, neutral stare, and Astrid had departed the scene as quickly as she could without making it _obvious_ that she was fleeing.

She'd had to admire him from afar, and admire she had, what with those gorgeous green eyes and firm butto...oh Freyja, she'd forgotten that somebody else was in the room.

How long had Stoick been calling her name? Judging by the look on his face, they had about another five hours of this to make up for her wandering thoughts.

And she was willing to bet her life that she'd spend four of those hours thinking of the village blacksmith.

Though being the blacksmith had done wonders for Hiccup, just imagine what those long, strong arms could do...

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The wind was picking up nicely, giving the ships that extra burst of speed that was greatly appreciated by all aboard. They should reach Berk's shores by late afternoon, with luck, and for Camicazi their arrival couldn't come quickly enough.

From her spot sitting right in front of the mast, she could see all before her, allowing her to spot Berk as soon as it came into view. There, she would find her best friend, who she hadn't seen in _so long._ Why that was, she truly had no idea, all she knew that whoever's fault it was would pay. Dearly.

She'd always felt closer to Hiccup than any of the other heirs, who at times she wanted to dismember, and he'd always been kind to her despite her roughhousing and bad jokes, and speaking of jokes, he was hilarious! Sure, he probably, definitely, didn't mean to be but he was side-splittingly funny nonetheless, what with his sarcasm and basic ineptitude at anything remotely resembling proper Viking behaviour.

And Camicazi knew that she was Hiccup's best-friend, and he'd be a stuttering, fumbling mess with his excitement at seeing her again.

And...well, he'd been a very cute little boy, and the last time she'd seen him he'd been developing into quite the dishy young man, and her mother _had_ been at her to find a worthy husband, and worthy meant that she could accept nothing less than another heir, which left her with the choice between Hiccup, Thuggory and Dagur, and that really wasn't a choice at all.

Though, she knew the boy had been infatuated with a girl on his island for a while, Loki knew what her name was, and there was every chance that the kid had married her and made lots of little horrors, which would scupper Camicazi's plans somewhat and leave her with Thuggory or Dagur, which she may have to kill him and his budding little bride for.

She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she supposed there was only one way to find out, and that was for this stupid ship to finally reach Berk.

She could see it now, just peaking over the horizon. A few hours at most, and she would be reunited with Hiccup, her best friend, her favourite of all the heirs, and possibly more...

It really had been too long.

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Thuggory sat next to his father, Mogadon, as they watched the men and women row their ship towards Berk. There were three ships carrying Meathead Vikings, and their ship was the grandest of them all. After all, carrying the greatest Chief in the Archipelago as well as the strongest, smartest, best-looking heir meant that such status needed to be recognised, and landing in Berk with a ship that would put Oseberg's ship to shame. Oseberg was Thuggory's great-great-grandfather, and had commissioned a ship that was to be the biggest and best to ever set sail, until it was destroyed and sank to the bottom of the ocean, that is. Ah well, his father Mogadon had had his own ship built that far surpassed Oseberg's legendary vessel and Berk and, more importantly, Hiccup would marvel.

Thuggory was so looking forward to seeing the other heir again, it had been so strange during the last few gatherings to not see Hiccup's trademark tiny frame and smirking face, or hear his sarcastic comments that made Thuggory laugh so. Life was certainly much more enjoyable when Hiccup was around, not to say that Thuggory's life was hard, of course. Being the only heir to a powerful Chief of a prosperous tribe, admired by women all over the archipelago for not only his fighting prowess but his good looks to boot. Yes, life was good for Thuggory, but he still rather preferred it when Hiccup was around.

The two would be having _words,_ however. There was no excuse, none whatsoever, for Hiccup's silence during the last few years. Even if Stoick, for whatever reason, had decided that Berk was too good to attend the gatherings and summons, Hiccup should have sent messages to Thuggory, if not the others, about why he was absent. Trader Johan was a good fellow, he'd be sure to pass any messages along, so Hiccup would have to explain himself to Thuggory immediately, and once satisfied with his apology, the two would drink and catch up with one another, all well.

Although...he'd have to warn Hiccup, too. Dagur was _extremely_ ticked off by Hiccup's disappearance, and a ticked off Dagur was nothing to scoff at. Even Thuggory, as mighty as he was, treated Dagur with extreme caution when he was in one of his dangerous moods, and, if he looked over to his right at the Berserkers' head ship, Thuggory could almost see a storm cloud hanging over the other heir's head as he paced the helm of the ship, furiously scanning the horizon for Berk's shores.

Yes, Thuggory would have to warn his fellow heir and friend, though Dagur wouldn't stay mad at Hiccup for long, he had possessed a strange affection for the smaller Viking ever since they had been young, and Hiccup knew how to handle him better than Thuggory or Cami.

So really, Hiccup just had to be warned of the impending furious interrogation, and then the four of them would go back to how they were, friends and bonded for life, no matter what hardships may approach.

There it was, Berk was just on the precipice of Thuggory's vision. Not long to go until Thuggory and Hiccup would be reunited once more, which would make the smaller heir oh so _happy._

Because who wouldn't want their best friend by their side?

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Why was this taking so long?!

Stupid, stupid fools rowing the ship too slow!

Dagur HAD to get to Berk! His little brother needed him, he hadn't had Dagur to protect him for _ages._

Dagur paced the ship, almost setting the wood alight with his fast, furious steps, ignoring the bemused glance from his father. A rat scurried across his path, and Dagur kicked out at it, sending the squeaking, flailing creature overboard. Briefly, Dagur cheered himself for the act, before his mind reverted to its frantic worrying.

 _Why_ had Hiccup been gone so long? Dagur truly had no idea, didn't he miss him like Dagur did? Of course he did, what a stupid question, they were brothers! Hiccup had definitely complained to his mutton-head father, tried numerous times to escape on a ship and find Berserker Island, only to fail, or be hunted down and returned to Berk.

Poor, poor little brother.

It wouldn't be long now, Dagur could smell it on the air.

A feral grin flashed across Dagur's features, resulting in numerous worried looks from the others aboard. A grinning Dagur was much more dangerous than a scowling Dagur.

"HURRY UP, MAGGOTS! We'd be there by now if you lazy scum would row _quicker!"_

The change was almost immediate. Wind billowed through the sails as the ship picked up pace, within minutes building a sizeable gap at the front of the combined fleet. A distant, cheery call from the direction of the Meathead ship was ignored.

Dagur would get to Berk first, and get to Hiccup first.

Hiccup, his little-brother needed him.

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The whole tribe was gathered at the docks, awaiting the incoming ships, not half an hour since they had been spotted from the watchtowers. Hiccup could see them all from his spot next to Snotlout at the back of the crowd, one of the many perks of being the second tallest member of the tribe, only Stoick the Vast was taller at the head than Hiccup. Hiccup supposed it was genetics, really, but he didn't ponder the thought for long, he wasn't fond of being reminded of his familial relationship with the Chief.

Whereas most Vikings were large, Hiccup was just very tall, with a skinnier frame and long arms, and was often falsely accused of being lanky. It wasn't true, however. His long days in the forge, almost every day since his status as heir was removed, had gifted Hiccup with the strength he had lacked for the majority of his life, strength enough that he was more than a match for Snotlout in an arm-wrestle, though their opposite dominant hands meant they could never find a certain winner, and had been the cause of many arguments between the two. But, back to the point, because Hiccup, despite being taller, wasn't as _wide_ as other Vikings, he looked weaker and frail, though that had been the case for most of his life. Berk's Vikings, however, had learnt over the past few years that, even if he didn't look it, Hiccup was a formidable Viking in battle, and they had put aside their misgivings on his physically different appearance and respected his skills and qualities. Hiccup couldn't have been happier, all he'd ever really wanted was to fit in, and he'd found his place in life and amongst the tribe.

All of this was running through Hiccup's head for a very good reason, however, because right now, as the ships began to arrive in the docks, almost a hundred new Vikings were about to spend an unspecified length of time on Berk, many of whom would never have met Hiccup before. Therefore, Hiccup was worried that he would be treated with the disdain he had become accustomed to during his youth.

But, more than anything, he was worried about the reaction of Camicazi, Thuggory and Dagur once they discovered Hiccup's disgrace. It wouldn't take long, after all, as soon as they set foot on the docks they would see Stoick, arms wide in greeting, and an unfamiliar blonde woman standing by his side, wearing the trademark green tunic donned by Berk's heir.

Something nudged him, rather painfully, in the side, and Hiccup looked left to see Snotlout frowning at him. Hiccup mouthed "What?" at the other man, who merely nodded his head forward in the direction of the docks. Hiccup had been so lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that the ships had landed. Men and women were disembarking the grand vessels, and heading down to where Stoick, along with Astrid and her parents, were waiting for their arrival.

Oh, great.

From this distance, Hiccup couldn't hear a thing being said, no thanks to the gossiping Vikings surrounding him, but he could see the expressions on the faces of the other Chief's and their heirs.

Anger, confusion, amusement, displeasure, bloodthirst, sadness, shock, bewilderment.

And that was just Dagur.

Hiccup could see Stoick pull Astrid forward, clearly introducing her to the arriving party, and Mogadon slap Stoick on the back, laughing and congratulating him.

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Hiccup didn't stay to see much more, and used his long frame to stride away from the docks, towards the sanctuary of his forge. He didn't need to look around to know Snotlout was following, but neither man spoke to the other during their journey.

After a few minutes walk, Hiccup arrived at the door to the forge. He leant his head against the hard wood and closed his eyes. He knew it would be hard, but he didn't think it would hurt so much. This had been the last step, really, in Astrid fully replacing him as heir, and now it had gone through, Hiccup felt...he didn't know. He didn't know how he felt, in fact, it was so disconcerting that he _didn't_ feel anything that worried him and made him want to leave.

A hand rested on his shoulder behind him, silently offering support, and after a deep breath, Hiccup stood straight and opened the door. He held it open for his cousin to enter, and closed it behind the stout man before opening the window over the counter, letting in the sunlight.

Hiccup sank onto his stool, leaning his head on one hand and staring at the ground. He sat there for a minute, until something nudged him. Looking up, he saw Snotlout holding out a jug. Frowning, he took it from the other man and sniffed the contents, reeling back once he recognised it.

"Snotlout, how long have you been carrying a jug of mead around?" Okay, maybe not a jug of it, apparently he'd been carrying around an entire bottle as he poured himself a jug.

Snotlout snorted and smirked at his cousin as he poured the mead. "I haven't carried it anywhere, actually. It's been in your backroom for months."

Hiccup blinked. How on Midgard hadn't he noticed? It was _his_ forge!

"Why would you hide mead here? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you do have a place of your own, don't you? You know, the basement of your family home? The man cave? Chateau Snot?"

Snotlout laughed and took a large swig of his jug. "I was hiding it from the twins." He held up his jug to Hiccup, motioning for his cousin to take a drink of his own, which he did with an expression of distaste.

Wincing from the taste, Hiccup queried "Why...why would you hide it here? Almost the entire village comes here at one point or another, it's hardly the most secure place in Berk."

"Sure it is, nobody would suspect _you_ of having a secret stash of anything, so nobody would go looking for it. And," Snotlout paused, and leisurely gulped at his drink. Hiccup leant forward impatiently. Snotlout smirked once more and continued "I knew one day, something would happen that would upset you enough that the only answer would be to get drunk. So, that's what we're gonna do." As if to put a stamp on his statement, Snotlout reached over and topped up Hiccup's jug, which after only one small sip didn't take long.

Hiccup set the jug down on the counter behind him and crossed his arms. "Snotlout Jorgensen, getting drunk is not the answer to life's problems-"

"Aha, that's just the thing, little cousin. You've never _been_ drunk, so how would you know?" It was extremely surreal seeing such a smug, high-and-mighty expression on Snotlout's face, though not as surreal as Hiccup, open-mouthed, unable to come back with a response in an argument.

Snotlout had nearly finished his second jug by the time Hiccup's mouth snapped closed. Glancing up at the other man, he saw what he called his "battle-face", hard, stony and all about business. Amused eyes watched as Hiccup picked up his jug and downed the entire thing, slamming it back down on the counter behind him. A small giggle slipped out as Hiccup's face trembled under the effort not to react to the harshness of the mead.

A full-blown laugh started when Hiccup failed and hissed as if he'd been burned.

Snotlout filled up their jugs once more, and the two clanked them together.

Snotlout knew he wasn't a man capable of reassuring and helping his cousin with words, but what he could do was get drunk with him and help him loosen up.

And by Thor, tonight that is exactly what they would do.

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It had been years since Hiccup had _laughed_ this much. Though, as he danced on the table, arm in arm with Tuffnut and Ruffnut, singing a limerick of Tuffnut's own invention about a chicken, it had been years since he'd had anything to laugh about.

Snotlout shook with silent laughter when Hiccup lost his balance and toppled from the table, and felt pride when his younger cousin felt none of the bashfulness or embarrassment he would have had he been sober when he realised Ruffnut had fallen with him and landed on top of him. Instead, he smiled and rolled to his feet, holding out a hand for the female twin to take. Popping up to her feet with his help, the blonde woman kissed him on the cheek before jumping back onto the table with her brother.

Hiccup seemed to have decided to sing this verse from the sidelines, a wise decision, and fell onto the seat next to Snotlout. His cousin looked over at him, eyes glassy yet warm, and he threw his arm around his Snotlout. Though he'd hate him in the morning for it, Snotlout had achieved his aim of loosening up his cousin and taking away his worries, and for once in his life Hiccup had joined in the merriment and, Snotlout would be sure to remind him, _enjoyed_ himself.

Snotlout had heard from the twins that the welcoming party at the docks had soon moved over to the Great Hall and the first of the many clan meetings. They'd tried to sneak in, and succeeded, but the only thing they'd overheard was something about "ships have been spotted" before they were discovered and turfed out. After a few hours, the _invited_ participants had emerged from the hall, and Stoick had announced a feast in the Mead Hall, and free ale for all for as long as the other clans were to stay. The twins hadn't heard anything beyond that, as they had raced into the Mead Hall and demanded three jugs each.

Stoick might regret his decision if Hiccup's sudden taste for it remained, his younger cousin had surprised them all by holding his own with aplomb, outdrinking even Snotlout, though the older Viking was making sure to keep his wits about him for Hiccup's sake. Somebody would need to get the man home, after all.

Snotlout watched, and laughed, when the twins, noticing Fishlegs' return to the table with a round of mead, dived off the table and tackled the gentle man to the ground, covering the three of them with the alcohol. It was a testament, really, to how addled Fishlegs was that he merely laughed and wandered back over to the tankards, the twins following him and taking turns jumping onto his back.

Snotlout's laughter left him abruptly, however, when he noticed the look on Hiccup's face. He was staring ahead, at the other side of the table, and Snotlout followed his line of sight.

Sitting there, staring back at Hiccup with blank expressions, were the heirs of the visiting tribes. Hiccup's carefree attitude and happiness had evaporated, and left in its place was his "battle-face".

Snotlout squared his shoulders and stared back at the heirs. It seemed that instead of a night filled only with happiness, and dancing, and singing, Hiccup instead would have to confront his former friends.

Snotlout wanted to kill them.

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 **A/U: Oh my god, guys, this was so hard to write. I don't know why, because I knew exactly what I wanted to write, but when it came to ACTUALLY writing it my brain decided it was time for a holiday. Personally, I'm blaming my new tablets for killing brain cells, and not my inherent laziness.**

 **I know I said this chapter would be a bonus one for last week, and I'm so so sorry it's late, but like I said I just couldn't write it for ages, so instead it will be this weeks chapter, and I will make no more promises because I hate disappointing you guys.**

 **So, my groveling apologies and excuses aside, what do you guys think? It was always the plan to skip forward in time, but originally it was going to be earlier, right after Stoick chose Astrid, so all the things that happened after were extra, and now just felt like a good time to do the skip, but what do you guys think?**

 **Also, I've never watched the TV series, or read the books, and all my knowledge of HTTYD comes entirely from the two movies, so I apologise if my characterisations of Thuggory, Camicazi and Dagur are false, but I'm going to write them based on how I've perceived them from other people's fics as well as adding my own personal spin on them.**

 **Please leave in the reviews how you think the confrontation with the other heirs will pan out, and what "ships have been spotted" means.**

 **And again, thank you to CajunBear73, as well as my first ever fan Romantica 21, though I love each and every one of my followers like I would a rare Pokémon.**

 **Thank you all for your patience, please review, favourite and follow and tell all your friends, because I would love this story to hit 150 followers this chapter.**

 **Have a good one.**


	10. Hiccup's Task

**A/N: This is an AU story of how Hiccup's life could have turned out if he failed to shoot down Toothless when he did.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon, though I do offer them £30 and a Mars Bar if they're willing to hand it over.**

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Hiccup slid his jug of mead across the table away from him. Suddenly, he had absolutely no desire to drink and be merry, not when he was confronted with the blank stares of his childhood friends, and the heirs of the other allied tribes. Hiccup looked down at his feet, sighing to himself. This was wrong, so, so wrong. Seeing his friends, the only friends he'd had growing up, should have been a joyous occasion, a celebration of their reunion, but not now. Not when they had discovered Hiccup's greatest shame, his removal as heir, which he had conveniently failed to inform them of. Not through any self-serving means, he just didn't believe that, now that Hiccup was no longer a fellow heir, they would want anything to do with him.

The silence between the two factions, heirs on one side, Hiccup and Snotlout on the other, lingered uncomfortably for a few minutes, each side gathering their thoughts until the silence was broken by a loud thud. Hiccup's head shot up to see a knife embedded in the centre of the table, and Dagur on his feet glaring at him.

Oh, _great._

Chest heaving, Dagur spat out "Why didn't you tell me, little brother? You know I'd have commandeered one of father's boats, sailed over here and gutted that little snake for you!"

Hiccup blinked, twice. What?

"W-what are you talking about?" Dagur growled in frustration, ignoring the side-long glances from Thuggory and Camicazi. "I _said,_ you should have told me what happened to you! I'd have killed that Astra girl for you, then you would be heir again!"

Okay, he maybe should have expected that from Dagur, he was deranged after all, but Camicazi's agreeing nod was a bit too much to take in. Breathing heavily, Hiccup shook his head, unable to process it all.

Luckily, Snotlout was as confused as he. "Wait, so you're saying you're not angry at Hiccup? You're angry at _Astrid_ and Stoick?" The crazy one nodded so frantically Snotlout feared his head would fall from his shoulders, and the girl gave him an evil grin that sent a shiver down Snotlout's spine. The other boy pounded his fist on the table and broke his silence.

"Why, of course! This is an outrage, Hic! No Chief has _ever_ chosen another's child as their heir, except when they have no children of their own you see. What your father-"

Hiccup snapped out of his thoughts and snarled "He is _not_ my father!"

Thuggory's eyed widened and he held up his hands "Okay, okay Hic, he's not your father. But still, what he did to you was wrong! And hiding it from the rest of the tribes for _years_ is unacceptable. He probably knew that we would have something to say about it...but it's been too long, now. That Astor girl has been in the position too long for our tribes to force Stoick to reverse his decision. That's why you should have sent word to us straight away, Hiccup." Thuggory frowned at the other boy, who sat wide-eyed at his words.

They weren't mad at him! They were mad _for him._ A small smile crept onto Hiccup's face at the knowledge that his friends hadn't abandoned him. If anything, he had abandoned them by keeping his silence and judging by the scowl on Cami's face, she at the very least wanted an explanation.

"I'm sorry, guys. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me after...after what happened-" Dagur opened his mouth, anger visible on his face but Hiccup held up his hand to stop the outburst. "because I'm not the heir anymore. Astrid is. And, as touched and as grateful as I am that you still care about me, you shouldn't be over here speaking to me, you should be getting to know her. After all, she _will_ become Berk's Chief one day, it would make sense to spend time with her while you're here, build alliances and all that."

The silence lasted but a few seconds before the whirlwind that was Camicazi burst to her feet and pointed her finger in Hiccup's face. "Now you listen here, _Haddock,_ how you could ever think that _I..._ I mean _we_ would want nothing to do with you is ridiculous! You are our friend, and that isn't until we no longer feel you are worthy of our attention, but until the day our lives end, understand?" Hiccup gulped and nodded his head, resulting in a beaming Camicazi throwing herself over the table and tackling him off his seat, where she hugged him so tightly that Hiccup was sure his eyes were about to pop out of his skull.

"Cam-Cami! Let...me...go...I...think...you're...killing...me!" Hiccup gasped, desperately reaching out with his hands for Snotlout to help him, but his cousin merely laughed at his misfortune. Traitor.

Eventually, Camicazi relented with her attack and Hiccup was able to scramble back up onto the bench, gingerly feeling his ribs. The diminutive blonde cackled and sauntered back around to her side of the table, and Hiccup was just about to sarcastically admonish the girl when his eyes caught something that terrified him to his very core.

Dagur, looking as if he was considering following Camicazi's example and tackling Hiccup to the ground. And with Dagur, Hiccup was certain that the "hug" would be a thousand times more dangerous. And painful.

Luckily, the perfect distraction arrived to save Hiccup in the form of Tuffnut, who bounded over to the table. "Snot, Hiccup come on! We're doing a sheep tossing tournament, whoever throws theirs the furthest gets a whole boar to themselves! Come on, come on, you can be my cheering section!" Without waiting for their answer, the man raced away from the table and through the doors.

Laughing to themselves, Hiccup and Snotlout rose to their feet. "Are you guys coming? It'll give you a chance to see Berk's fine culture in action." The three heirs also rose, looking forward to watching the proceedings. At least, on the surface that is. One was looking forward to entering the competition, one was looking forward to seeing _Hiccup_ enter, and one was wondering if he would be allowed to skin one of the sheep. One guess on who was thinking _that._

The group had barely walked three paces from the table when their progress was halted by the last person any of them wanted to see. Astrid, holding four jars of mead in her hands and a hopeful expression plastered across her face.

"H-Hi. I was just thinking that the four of us could spend some time getting to know each other?" Despite his dislike for the girl, Hiccup couldn't help but feel sorry for her ridiculously poor timing. Sensing a perfect opportunity to mess with his friends, Hiccup grabbed Snotlout's shoulders and began to steer him away. "An excellent idea, Astrid. Allow us mere mortals to leave you four alone, you'll likely have matters of much importance to discuss." Stopping only to give an overly-flamboyant bow, Hiccup veritably skipped away from the stunned heirs, closely followed by a laughing Snotlout.

Once the two were gone, the three heirs turned towards the newest member of their rank. The blonde girl smiled at them and led the way over to the table they had previously occupied, forcing the three to follow, miserable. All seated, Astrid slid each a jar of mead and sat back, waiting for someone to speak.

Because, although it had been her idea, she had absolutely no idea what to say.

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Thuggory sat watching the blonde woman, Berk's new heir, as she stared into the contents of her jar as if it had the answers to life's great questions. Had they been in another situation, he'd have felt pity for the poor girl, who clearly wanted to make a connection with them but was struggling to come up with how to do so, but unfortunately, she was the replacement for Hiccup and Thuggory was relishing her discomfort.

Camicazi observed the trollop as she stared into her drink with the intensity of a thousand suns and absently wondered if the other woman had gone catatonic. Clearly, this girl was a bit dim, coming over and basically demanding their time under the guise of "getting to know each other" but having absolutely nothing to say. Hiccup would have never done something so ridiculously amateurish as this _bint_.

Dagur tapped his dagger against the tabletop, lazily debating the merits of launching the blade between the blonde woman's eyes. Surely his father would be perfectly capable of smoothing over any problems Berk would have with his bit of fun, he knew his little brother would have no problems with it. Yes, it would be no bother, just one little motion of his arm and-

Camicazi instinctively leant over and held Dagur's arm down before it had moved even an inch, and responded to his glare with merely a raised eyebrow. Thuggory smirked at the two and, making a snap decision, decided to engage Berk's heir in conversation.

"I suppose you don't know what just happened, Astro? Dagur here was just about to end your miserable little existence, but Camicazi stopped him. Dagur does tend to get a little, well, _murderous_ when he's bored, and let me tell you, this is painstakingly boring." The girl opened her mouth to respond, but Thuggory beat her to it. "I don't like you, Astria, nobody at this table likes you, so you had better have something very important to say to us, or Cami might not be able to stop Dagur next time."

"Or want to." Camicazi leered at the other girl, enjoying the flush of anger that crossed the Berkian's features.

"I just...wanted to get to know you all. It's important that we build strong ties now before we take up the mantle of leadership, to allow stronger ties between our tribes in the future so that-" Astrid flinched as Dagur raised his dagger-holding arm, but the man merely scratched at his chin with it, smirking at her.

Camicazi smiled acidly at the other girl and leant forwards in her seat. "Okay, Astriz. We'll get to know you. Hmm, where to begin?" Camicazi mockingly tapped her chin with her finger, seemingly in deep thought. "Oh! I know! How did it feel to take an honourable position that wasn't yours? To take away the destiny and the birthright of a man who is a thousand times better than you in every concievable way?"

Astrid gaped at the girl, stunned. How dare she-

Thuggory chimed in "Quite. How did it feel to cause the deaths of two children? To be whipped in front of your entire village in punishment? To not only _be_ punished, but to cry, to throw up, to _piss yourself_ during said punishment? Oh yes, we've been told all about that. A lovely pair of twins saw fit to inform us earlier, I must really find out their names, they seem like the right sort."

Dagur chose not to comment, instead choosing to retrieve a stone from an inner pocket of his tunic and began to sharpen his dagger on it.

Astrid jumped to her feet, furious. "How _dare_ you? How dare you judge me, based upon your dislike for the loss of your friend's position? I did not ask for this, in all honesty I didn't want it, but I was _chosen_ because I deserved it! You've heard all about my failures, but what about Hiccup's? All the times he destroyed people's homes, caused injuries, allowed the dragons to take whatever they pleased? How he could barely hold a sword upright, let alone fight with one?"

The three heirs sat, staring up at the enraged woman as she continued her tirade.

"Stoick chose me, because he felt he had no other option. And yes, I made mistakes, and I paid for them, but I humbled myself, have learnt the lessons Stoick has to teach, and I am proud to be Berk's heir, and I know that, when the time comes, I will be a good leader, a strong leader, even if I was not my _birthright."_

Astrid turned away from the three, and took a moment to compose herself. It wouldn't do to lose her temper completely and murder them, after all. Calmed, she turned back to them and spoke softly "I have no idea, truly, if Hiccup would have been a good heir, a good Chief, because who is to say if he hadn't lost the position, he'd have been determined enough to improve himself? Maybe he would have, and become the heir we all hoped for, but there is little point in such wonderings. _I_ am Berk's heir and future Chief, just the same as you are for your tribes, and I think it would be a very good idea if we could learn to get along. Now, it has been a long day, and I grow tired so I will take my leave. I hope that tomorrow, we may start afresh with respect and open minds." Astrid began to walk away from the three, but suddenly stopped and turned back.

"Oh, and by the way, my name is _Astrid."_

And, with little more than a farewell nod of her head, Astrid walked calmly away from them and out into the night.

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Breakfast in the Mead Hall that morning was a quiet, pleasant affair. Few were awake at this time due to the excessive drinking and partying from the night before, and all were feeling the effects, resulting in the few present in the early hours craved a relaxing, calming atmosphere.

Amongst their number was Hiccup, sequestered away at a table far away from the small clusters of folk. Rarely did he ever have an opportunity to partake in a breakfast at the Mead Hall, usually he was up to his ears in orders, but for once he had a clear schedule. How long it would last, what with the sure-to-come competitions between the tribes and mock battles Odin only knew, but he was determined to enjoy his free time, and a hearty breakfast, made by a more skilled cook than Gobber was just the right way to start the day. The old man still insisted on waking up with Hiccup every morning and making him his breakfast, as if he wasn't a fully-grown capable adult himself.

He had it all planned out; first, he would eat his breakfast, perhaps have a second helping, and then he would visit with his Aunt Sigrid. Snotlout's mother had fallen ill recently and had been forced into a bedridden state, and, with Hiccup's long hours and busy days, he had been unable to see her in weeks. Then, with luck, he would be able to slip away into the forest and practice with his bow. He so enjoyed those hours alone, when the only thoughts running through his mind were how to achieve the optimal skill and success. Then, he-

"Hiccup." Hiccup froze, spoon of porridge floating tantalisingly close to his open mouth, and looked up at the owner of the familiar voice.

"Good morning, Stoick. What can I do to serve the Chief of Berk on this fine day?" Stoick rolled his eyes at the young man's cheek and hefted himself onto the seat opposite. Stoick took a moment to allow his eyes to wash over the other man, automatically checking for signs of ill-health and taking cues from Hiccup's body language on his mental well-being. The chasm between the two that had grown in the previous years was deep and seemingly unassailable, but at the end of it all Hiccup was still his son, and Stoick would always look to make sure he was well.

"I have a favour to ask of you, if you will allow it." At Hiccup's measured nod, Stoick continued. "I need you to help integrate Astrid with the other heirs. I watched you last night when you spoke with them, and it is clear to me that they hold you in the highest of respects. With Astrid...they don't. Their interactions were...stilted, as if they were sizing her up and finding her wanting. I need you to spend time with Thuggory, Camicazi and Dagur and I will _strongly suggest_ to Astrid that she tag along with you."

Hiccup dropped his spoon back into the bowl and pushed it away from himself. Suddenly, he had lost his appetite.

"You're joking? You're not joking? You _actually_ believe that this is a good idea? Thor, you've had some pea-brained schemes before, Stoick, but _this?"_

Stoick blinked, twice.

"Firstly, I hate Astrid. I hate her. She is, and always has been, a foul, stuck-up, arrogant, rock-for-a-brain _nit,_ so really why wouldn't the others learn to like her better from my opinions? Secondly, she hates me. She always has, she thinks I'm 'just a hiccup', so forgive me if I'm struggling to believe that your golden girl would humble herself enough to accept the exceedingly limited help I have to offer."

Stoick frowned, confused. "I was under the impression that the girl was quite fond of you? She is the one that suggested using your skill with a bow and arrow to help combat the beasts, and may I say what a wonderful job you are doing-"

"Flattery isn't going to help you here, Stoick."

"-AND she is the one who provided you with that Gronckle iron last winter." Stoick rubbed his chin and mumbled to himself "the little devil never did tell me HOW she did it."

Hiccup reeled back, stunned. _Astrid_ was the one who gave him the iron? He'd made a small fortune selling the weapons he'd created using the rare material, and every Viking in Berk had clamoured for more. But then, why had it been Helga that had given him...she was Astrid's _mother,_ stupid. All she would have needed to do was give it to Helga and tell her to deliver it to me, but not tell me who it was from.

But then that begged the question, why wouldn't she just give it to me herself?

Hiccup's silence as he sought answers he was unable find had unfortunately given Stoick, the great lummox, the impression that Hiccup had agreed to his 'favour'.

"Excellent! Now you finish your breakfast son, and I'll send Astrid to meet you at the forge in one hour." As Hiccup gaped like a fish, Stoick half-turned away before returning his attention to the man sitting before him, an uncharacteristically tender expression adorning his battle-worn face.

"Hiccup, thank you. Not just for this, but for everything you've done for Berk these last few years. Y-you've grown into a man, into a Viking, that any Chief would be proud of."

Stoick turned and walked briskly away from the table, unable to look back, fearing what he might find on the face of his son. Stoick reached the heavy doors and wrenched them open, before stepping outside into the sun and slamming them shut behind him, turning his head slightly at the outcry of groans from beyond the oaken doors.

The great man sighed to himself, rubbing his hand over his face and speaking the words he'd wished he could have told Hiccup to his face.

"You've become a man that any _father_ would be proud of."

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 **A/N: Okay, this is a really short chapter, only 3500 words but the next update will be a big one, and important for the story so I just felt like uploading this as a tide-over until the next chapter is written.**

 **Sorry once again for the long period between updating, I should be thrown to the Red Death for my idleness.**

 **Also, to the lovely Russian fellow who reviewed, if you ever have any troubles understanding what's going on feel free to message me and I would be delighted to explain it to you.**

 **I hope you enjoy this snippet of story, and I'll see you all soon.**


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